UNIVERSITY OF CINCINNATI

Date: April 28, 2006

I, Kristín Jónína Taylor, hereby submit this work as part of the requirements for the degree of: Doctorate of Musical Arts in: Piano Performance It is entitled: Northern Lights: Indigenous Icelandic Aspects of Jón Nordal´s Piano Concerto

This work and its defense approved by:

Chair: Dr. Steven J. Cahn Professor Frank Weinstock Professor Eugene Pridonoff

Northern Lights: Indigenous Icelandic Aspects of Jón Nordal’s Piano Concerto

A DMA Thesis submitted to the

Division of Graduate Studies and Research of the University of Cincinnati

in partial fulfillment of the

requirements for the degree of

DOCTOR OF MUSICAL ARTS

in the Performance Studies Division of the College–Conservatory of Music

28 December 2005

by

Kristín Jónína Taylor 139 Indian Avenue Forest City, IA 50436 (641) 585-1017 [email protected]

B.M., University of Missouri, Kansas City, 1997 M.M., University of Missouri, Kansas City, 1999

Committee Chair: ______Steven J. Cahn, Ph.D.

Abstract

This study investigates the influences, both domestic and foreign, on the composition of Jón Nordal´s Piano Concerto of 1956. The research question in this study is, “Are there elements that are identifiable from traditional Icelandic music in Nordal´s work?” By using set theory analysis, and by viewing the work from an extramusical vantage point, the research demonstrated a strong tendency towards an Icelandic voice. In addition, an argument for a symbiotic relationship between the domestic and foreign elements is demonstrable.

i ii My appreciation to Dr. Steven J. Cahn at the University of Cincinnati College- Conservatory of Music for his kindness and patience in reading my thesis, and for his helpful comments and criticism.

Thank you to the Fulbright foundation for making it possible for me to compile more current and accurate research to complete my thesis.

I am deeply indebted to Bjarki Sveinbjörnsson for loaning me research materials, and for his enthusiastic encouragement and support of my project.

My warmest gratitude to Jón Nordal for his incredible and inspiring music, and his comments regarding his compositions.

Thank you to my brother, Aðalsteinn Jón Taylor, for inspiring his little sister with his radio program on Nordic music, “Northern Lights.”

Thank you to my father, Dr. Ronald Lee Taylor, for assuring me there was a support system to guide me through the process of my degree, and for your guidance through the writing process.

Thank you to my mother, Vigdís Aðalsteinsdóttir Taylor, for making sure my translations were accurate, and for buying books when you were a teenager that you never dreamt your daughter would use for her doctoral research.

Additional thanks to: Nína Margrét Grímsdóttir for her thoughtful insights; Tinna Þorsteinsdóttir for her work on Nordal’s Piano Concerto and belief in my project; Dr. Úlfar Ingi Haraldsson for his ideas and assistance with theoretical analysis; Dr. Árni Heimir Ingólfsson for providing compelling research with which to work, and for his intuitive comments; Árni Heiðar Karlsson for putting me in contact with the right people at a crucial point in my research; Gunnlaugur Þór Briem for assistance with computer files I thought I’d never be able to open again; Gísli Leifsson for additional computer and internet assistance; Halldór Haraldsson for his attentive musical guidance throughout the years; and Íslensk tónverkamiðstöð for providing scores and other materials, and for publishing my Finale edition of Nordal’s two-piano version of his Piano Concerto.

This thesis is lovingly dedicated to the memory of Joanne Johnson Baker, Professor Emeritus of Piano at the University of Missouri – Kansas City Conservatory of Music.

iii Norðurljós Northern Lights Eftir Einar Benediktsson By Einar Benediktsson, translated by Jakobina Johnson

Veit duftsins son nokkra dýrðlegri sýn Was ever such vision to mortals sent en drottnanna hásal í vafurloga? As Northern Lights in the heavens flaming? Sjá grund og vog undir gullhvelfdum boga! – The shoreline a golden archway framing. Hver getur nú unað við spil og vín? – Who now is at drinking and cards content? – Sjálf moldin er hrein eins og mær við lín; The earth lies serene and on sleep intent mókar í haustsins visnu rósum. Under a cover of roses decaying. Hvert sandkorn í loftsins litum skin Rare colors the grains of sand present. og lækirnir kyssast í silfurrósum. – Where waters meet, there is a silver spraying. Við útheimsins skaut er allt eldur og skraut The north is aglow with an ornate show, af iðandi norðurljósum. Of Borealis’ displaying.

Frá sjöunda himni að Ránar rönd From the seventh heav’n to the ocean’s rim, stíga röðlarnir dans fyrir opnum tjöldum, The suns hold a dance with the curtain lifted. en ljóshafsins öldur með fjúkandi földum, And white-capped billows of light are shifted, falla og ólga við skuggaströnd. – Then break on a strand of shadows dim. Það er eins og leikið sé huldri hönd An unseen hand directs at its whim hringspil með giltrandi sprotum og baugum. – This glittering round of streamers flowing. Nú mænir allt dauðlegt á lífsins lönd To regions of light from the darkness grim, frá lokuðum brautum, frá myrkum haugum, All earth-life now turns with fervor growing. og hrímklettar stara við hljóðan mar – And a crystal gaze on the glowing haze til himins með kristallsaugum. The hoary cliffs bestowing.

Nú finnst mér það allt svo lítið og lágt, How base seem the issues – and trifling the call, sem lifað er fyrir og barizt er móti. That claims our life – or we strive denying. Þó kasti þeir grjóti og hati og hóti – Let mortals attack me with hatred defying, – við hverja smásál ég er í sátt. I now feel at peace with each creature small. Því bláloftið hvelfist svo bjart og hátt. So fair and immense is this vault over all – Nú brosir hver stjarna þótt vonirnar svíki, And smiling the stars – though our hopes be arrested. og hugurinn lyftist í æðri átt. The mind goes soaring, - no heights appal, – Nú andar guðs kraftur í duftsins líki. Divine is the power through the dust manifested. Vér skynjum vorn þrótt, vér þekkjum í nótt We fathom our strength – our rights are at length vorn þegnrétt í ljóssins ríki. – In the kingdom of light attested.

Hve voldugt og djúpt er himinsins haf How mighty an ocean the heavens bright – og hásigldar snekkjur sem leiðina þreyta. And brave the vessels attempting the sailing. Að höfninni leita þær, hvort sem þær beita A haven they seek, with courage unfailing, í horfið – eða þær beygja af. Whether they swerve, or their course holds right; En aldrei sá neinn þann sem augað gaf But none have beheld Him who gave us sight, – og uppsprettur ljóssins ei fundnar né skýrðar, Nor shown us the source of these marvels abiding. með beygðum knjám og með bænastaf At the door of His temple, this glorious night, menn bíða við musteri allrar dýrðar. In homage they pray from their hearts confiding. En autt er allt sviðið og harðlæst hvert hlið – But vainly they wait – for locked is each gate, og hljóður sá andi sem býr þar. And silent the spirit presiding.1

1 Richard Beck, ed., Icelandic Lyrics: Originals and Translations (Reykjavík: Þórhallur Bjarnarson, 1930), 158–161.

iv Notes on the Icelandic alphabet

Names of people, places, texts, and musical forms are given in the original

Icelandic. The following is a listing of Icelandic letters and their equivalent

pronounciations, using phonetic pronounciations:

Letter Represents Phonetic Pronounciation

Þ (þ) th- (in English) thin

The “þ” is used at the beginning of words and has a harder “th” sound.

Ð (ð) -th- (in English) breathe

The “ð” is used in the middle or at the ends of words and has a softer “th” sound.

Æ (æ) [ai] læst [laist]

Á (á) [au] ást [aust]

É (é) [j
] sést [sj
st]

Í (í) [i] bíddu [pit:]

Ó (ó) [ou] bóndi [pount]

Ú (ú) [u] Rússi [rus:]

Ý (ý) [i] sýndu [sintu]2

2 Ari Páll Kristinsson, The Pronounciation of Modern Icelandic: A Brief Course for Foreign Students, 3d ed. (Reykjavík: Málvísindastofnun Háskóla Íslands, 2004), 8.

v CONTENTS

ABSTRACT ...... i

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS ...... iii

“NORTHERN LIGHTS” ...... iv

NOTES ON THE ICELANDIC ALPHABET ...... v

LIST OF MUSICAL EXAMPLES ...... 3

Chapter

INTRODUCTION ...... 6

1. ELEMENTS OF ICELANDIC CULTURE ...... 9

Historical Background ...... 9

Rise of Nationalism ...... 11

Language ...... 12

Sagas ...... 15

Poetry ...... 21

Nature ...... 26

Folk Music ...... 28

2. NORDAL ...... 37

3. INFLUENCES ...... 41

Non-nationalistic influences ...... 41

Icelandic correlations ...... 56

Intervals ...... 58

Meter ...... 66

Lilja Melody ...... 69

1 Mood and tone ...... 75

Depiction of Icelandic landscape ...... 76

CONCLUSION ...... 88

BIBLIOGRAPHY ...... 93

2 LIST OF MUSICAL EXAMPLES AND TABLES

Example Page

1. Icelandic folksong, text by Jónas Hallgrímsson, “Ísland, farsælda frón” 31

2. Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 334–338 53

3. Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 1–18 54

4. Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 100–118 55

5. Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 10–11 59

6. Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 19–25 60

7. Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 27–33 60

8. Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 78–82 61

9. Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 131–134 61

10. Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 368–371 62

11. Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 260–263 62

12. Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 118–124 63

13. Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 357–360 63

14. Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 19–20 64

15. Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 171–173 64

16. Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 346–349 65

17. Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, m. 372 66

18. Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 225–236 67

19. Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 275–279 68

20. Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 1–4 68

21. Icelandic folk song, “Lilja” melody 70

3 22. Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 69–70 70

23. Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 74–77 71

24. Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 100–104 71

25. Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 118–120 72

26. Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, m. 131 72

27. Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 163–166 73

28. Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 189–192 73

29. Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 399–401 74

30. Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, m. 414 74

31. Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, m. 529 74

32. Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 507–508 75

33. Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 1–18 77

34. Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 100–118 78

35a. Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 1–3 79

35b. Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 19–27 80

35c. Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 28 80

35d. Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 29–35 80

35e. Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 100–104 80

35f. Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 123–124 81

36. Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 179–182 81

37a. Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 19–22 82

37b. Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 100–103 82

38. Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 385–399 83

4 39. Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 472–505 84-85

40. Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 252–258 86

41. Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 57–61 87

Table Page

1. Features of the music of Bartók, Hindemith, and Icelandic folk music 43

2. Set theoretical analysis of the form of Jón Nordal´s Piano Concerto 45-49

5 Introduction

In the twentieth century, Icelandic composers confronted the task of finding an identity in art music. Although Iceland had gone through approximately five hundred years of cultural isolation from Western Europe and in 1944 received its independence from Denmark, the process of finding an identity began during its fight for independence during the late 19th century. Icelandic composers, in reinventing an artistic tradition after

a long period of isolation, pursued two options for cultural expression. One alternative is

to absorb and utilize outside influences. Icelandic composer Jón Þórarinsson (b. 1917)

studied with Paul Hindemith (1895–1963) at Yale University.3 The resulting transfer of

Hindemith’s compositional style had a discernible influence on the modernistic aesthetic of Þórarinsson´s students, including Jón Nordal (b. 1926). Other composers such as

Johann Sebastian Bach (1685–1750), Ludwig van Beethoven (1770–1827), Bela Bartók

(1881–1945), and Igor Stravinsky (1882–1971) can be named as influences on Nordal.

The second possible option for cultural expression in music is to utilize recognizable features of traditional folk music. Leonard Bernstein once emphasized that sound and rhythm are unique to a culture when he said, “Music originates from the language, poetry, and folk traditions of a culture.”4 In Nordal’s music, there are instances of folk music influence, such as in Tvísöng, 5 a concerto for violin and viola which uses tvísöngur

(a type of Icelandic folk song to be discussed later); Systurnar í Garðshorni,6 an early

3 Luther Noss, Paul Hindemith in the United States (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1989), 81, 87. Paul Hindemith taught at Yale University from 1940–1953.

4 Leonard Bernstein, A New Frontier: The Philharmonic Years (1959–1968), Leonard Bernstein: An American Life (Wash. D.C.: National Public Radio, 2004).

5 Jón Nordal, Tvísöngur (Reykjavík: Iceland Music Information Centre, 1979).

6 Ibid., Systurnar í Garðshorni (Reykjavík: Iceland Music Information Centre, 1945).

6 work for violin and piano which also makes use of tvísöngur and other Icelandic folk

song elements, and other early works. Most of Nordal´s compositions, however, are

abstract works with no discernible programmatic influence. Despite the nonprogrammatic aspect of Nordal’s music, his compositions have an identifiable profile that is possible to associate with an Icelandic sound identity.

The purpose of this study is to determine how Nordal’s choices in his Piano

Concerto of 1956 were appropriate with respect to aspects of Icelandic nationalism, including language, literature, poetry, nature, and folk music. Set theory analysis is the primary tool utilized in this study. Sources on Nordal´s works are limited, but include two major studies on Nordal´s works, a survey of Icelandic piano concerti by

Thorsteinsdóttir, and Sveinbjörnsson´s general inquiry into Nordal´s works up to his

Adagio of 1966.

When Nordal composed his Piano Concerto in 1956, romantic Icelandic nationalism was still at its height. Iceland had officially won its independence only twelve years before Nordal completed the concerto and the country was building a cultural and commercial identity. For the purposes of this study, Icelandic identity is characterized primarily but not exclusively by several factors, each of which may be evident in

Nordal’s composition. They are:

• A strong purist influence from the Icelandic language characterized by clearly

identifiable rhythm, meter, and syllabic stress

• A link among literature, poetry, and music as demonstrated in the Icelandic sagas

and in the texts, rhythmic meter, and intervallic structure of the rímur and

tvísöngur folksong traditions

7 • The pervasive influence of the narrative form with simple, direct, serious, and

non-interpretive prose,7 and

• The heroic tone and mood of fate and honor in the face of prevailing natural

forces and natural beauty of Iceland’s landscape.

These factors are explored individually in more detail in the chapters that follow.

7 This is in contrast to the French romance type of literature, where the focus is on fantasy, and is not considered “narrative” prose.

8 Chapter 1: Elements of Icelandic Culture

Historical Background

The chronicle of events in Icelandic history greatly shaped the language,

literature, art forms, and anthropology of Iceland. Indigenous elements of Icelandic

culture are expressed in the folk music of Iceland. According to Göran Bergendal in New

Music in Iceland, “The music of Iceland is, like that of other nations, closely interwoven

with its people, environment, history, and economic and social circumstances.”8

Iceland was settled in A.D. 874 by Norwegian chieftains who, according to

traditional sources, were escaping the rule of King Harald Fairhair and his attempt to

unify the nation under his rule. Gwyn Jones reflects the conventional Romantic

interpretation of the Viking settlement:

In part a new Norway, Iceland preserved better than the home country the ideas which had distinguished primitive Scandinavia. The salient characteristics of the Germanic Heroic Age passed in their purest form into a new island home at the end of the ninth century, and dictated in no uncertain manner the development of that island’s culture. A strong conservatism in manners, a belief in the old way of life, a sturdy opposition to new conceptions, these, more than difficult economic conditions in the homeland and the general unrest which was always prompting the Northern races to independence and discovery, were the causes of Iceland’s being. . . . Iceland was settled by men impatient of restraint, hating any form of central authority, and concerned above all with the right to live their lives in their own fashion.9

Conversely, Hálfdanarson offers a recent sociological analysis that

overpopulation and a need for new economic properties created the need to find a new

place for settlement.10

8 Göran Bergendal, New Music in Iceland (Reykjavík: Iceland Music Information Centre, 1991), 1.

9 Gwyn Jones, trans., introduction to Four Icelandic Sagas (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1935; New York: American Scandinavian Foundation, 1935), 13.

10 Guðmundur Hálfdanarson, Historical Dictionary of Iceland, vol. 24, European Historical Dictionaries (London: The Scarecrow Press, 1997), 6.

9 The Icelanders established a parliament (Alþing) in A.D. 930 and set up a code of

law that continued through the end of the Commonwealth in 1262. At this time, Norway assumed ownership of Iceland.

In 1000, Christianity was adopted in Iceland; this contributed to the civil strife between the chieftainships and the church that eventually led to the Norwegian rule.

“The power of the Church gradually increased, upsetting the original balance of power among the chieftains. The emergence of a few prominent families, which accumulated considerable wealth and power, led eventually to a power struggle among the families on

[the] one hand and between the families and the Church on the other hand.”11

In 1380 the Danish crown took over Norway, and therefore also Iceland. In the

course of this Danish rule, a monopoly on trade was established so that Icelanders could not trade with anyone but Danish merchants. “This tied Iceland more firmly to the mother country, as Denmark dominated all of its economic and political relations. . . .”12

In an attempt to further suppress the Icelanders, the Danish monarchy abolished the

Parliament established by the early Icelandic settlers. In addition to the rule of the Danes,

the Lutheran Reformation in 1550 did much to isolate Iceland still further from the

European community.

Although knowledge of foreign literature inside Iceland was perpetuated, music

and other elements of culture froze in time. The widespread indigenous practice of

singing folksongs such as rímur and tvísöngur that began in the medieval period was

mostly preserved over the centuries. The monodic hymnbooks that were used until the

11 Hjálmar H. Ragnarsson, A Short History of Icelandic Music to the Beginning of the Twentieth Century (Reykjavík: Iceland Music Information Centre, 1980), 3.

12 Hálfdanarson, 7.

10 mid-nineteenth century were the Lutheran Church’s sole contribution to music in Iceland

during the pre-Nationalistic period of Iceland’s history.

Rise of Nationalism

An increasingly strong movement of national pride and independence developed in the nineteenth century as a unifying force in Icelandic culture that became most evident in Icelandic politics, literature, music, and art forms. This movement prompted the development of new avenues of creativity and expression of Icelandic themes and the

Icelandic identity.

Icelandic students in Denmark were inspired by the romantic nationalism emanating from Germany and Denmark and brought this patriotic fervor back to their home country. The Icelanders demonstrated this passion mostly in literature and poetry.

The Icelandic nationalistic movement was led by Jón Sigurðsson (1811–1879), who himself was the philologist and archivist of Icelandic manuscripts for the King of

Denmark. Sigurðsson was instrumental in preserving much of the abused, lost, and forgotten manuscripts from the medieval periods. In addition, poets and composers wrote folk songs to new nationalistic poetry to increase and perpetuate national pride and awareness.

Through the use of prose, the Icelandic nationalistic movement worked diligently to gradually gain autonomous rule. “Demands were made [by Icelandic activists] for the abolition of trade restrictions, restoration of Alþingi as a legislative authority, control over national finances, and improvements in public health and education. The struggle

11 for these demands was both hard and long but not fruitless.”13 As a result of persistent campaigning, the Alþing was reinstated in 1843. “Alþingi became . . . a unifying symbol for the growing nationalist sentiment in Iceland and served as a platform for the emerging nationalist movement.”14 The Danish king approved the first Icelandic constitution in

1874, a home rule government was established in 1904, and fifteen years later, Iceland was recognized as a sovereign state in a union with Denmark. In 1944, Iceland officially gained its full independence from Denmark.

Language

One indigenous element of great national pride is the Icelandic language. In

comparison with other languages, the Icelandic language has gone through relatively little change from the time of settlement in A.D. 874. The Icelandic vocabulary has remained almost unchanged, but the pronunciation has undergone far more alteration. There are, according to Tomasson, several factors that contributed to the preservation of the

Icelandic language throughout history: a small amount of immigration to the country up

until recent times, relatively little contact with the outside world except for Denmark

during the time of monarchical rule, the high literacy level of most of the population of

Iceland, the intense love of poetic art, the complex system of case endings, the education by the Church during Danish rule, the meetings of the Alþing that a large part of the

population would attend, the high amount of travel within the nation that served to unify

13 Ragnarsson, 5.

14 Hálfdanarson, 8.

12 the people, and the lack of urban centers for much of Iceland’s history.15 Icelanders have

an intense pride in their language and, more than any other nationalistic trait, consider it

essential to their identity as a nation.

Throughout history, Icelanders have keenly felt the need to protect their language from foreign influence. Magnús Ketilsson, an Icelander connected with the printing of the first newspaper in Iceland in 1773, wrote his articles in Icelandic instead of Danish, against “those few misguided men of his day who actually advocated the adoption of the

Danish tongue by the Icelanders; on the contrary, he strongly opposed that suggestion in a later article . . . in which he showed how difficult, even impossible, it would be to bring about such a change, at the same time pointing out what a great loss the dropping of

Icelandic would be.”16

The publication Fjölnir, established in 1835, is also credited with helping to preserve the Icelandic language. Fjölnir created a rebirth of Icelandic writing, appealing for a need for new literature. In this publication, Icelandic author Konráð Gíslason wrote

such an “exquisite and strong an appeal to the people to preserve their language that they

will be [admired] by future generations.”17 There was a great effort at several points during Icelandic history to purify the language from Danish and German influences, especially during the Romantic period. Halldór Hermannsson clarifies:

This language, the reformers felt, had been corrupted through the admixture of foreign elements, and, so far, little had been done to prevent the injurious process

15 Richard F. Tomasson, Iceland: The First New Society (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1980), 161–165.

16 Halldór Hermannsson, The Periodical Literature of Iceland Down to the Year 1874, vol. 11, Islandica: An annual relating to Iceland and the Fiske Icelandic Collection in Cornell University Library (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Library, 1918; reprint, New York: Kraus Reprint Corporation, 1966), 7.

17 Hermannsson, Periodical Literature of Iceland, 46.

13 from continuing. Were nothing done, they feared that the language would ultimately lose its native characteristics. . . . There was a full recognition of the changes to which the language had been subject; and where these changes were seen to be a natural development they were to be respected. It was the foreign importations or imitations that were to be banished.18

The Icelandic language then became an expression of national unity and pride and

tied the Icelanders to their authentic historic roots because Icelandic was the language of the Vikings.19

In addition, the Lutheran Church did much to protect the language from changing

through education of their clergy in Icelandic. They also translated sacred works into

their native tongue. “By so doing they prevented the use of Danish books by the people

and thus warded off the fate which befell the Norwegians, that of neglecting their native

language and adopting Danish as the language of the pulpit.”20 The Icelandic poet

Hallgrímur Pétursson wrote the Passíusálmar, a set of religious poems, in Icelandic in the

seventeenth century; the popularity of this and other such works also helped to contribute

to the preservation of the Icelandic language.

The Icelandic language has strong rhythmic qualities that make it an exceptional

vehicle for poetic expression. In Icelandic, the first syllable of each word is always

stressed, but the syllabic stress is slightly more complicated than this one-dimensional

18 Halldór Hermannsson, Introduction to Icelandic Authors of Today, vol. 6, Islandica: An annual relating to Iceland and the Fiske Collection in Cornell University Library, ed. George William Harris, (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Library, 1913; reprint, New York: Kraus Reprint Corporation, 1966), x.

19 It should be noted that the Icelandic language at this point had undergone many pronounciation changes from the Viking era, so the “going back to the language of the forefathers as it originally existed” was not entirely possible. The advocates of purification of the Icelandic language weren’t unrealistic, however, because they wanted the language to develop naturally from within the language without foreign influence.

20 Halldór Hermannsson, Bibliographical Notes, vol. 29, Islandica: An annual relating to Iceland and the Fiske Collection in Cornell University Library (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1942), 52.

14 rule. “In the written journals about Icelandic phonology it is generally assumed that a

simple rule applies regarding the emphasis in Icelandic words. In non-compound words

the main emphasis is considered to fall on the first syllable and a secondary emphasis on

the third syllable and every other syllable from that.”21 Árnason continues: “In Icelandic the rule is if a vowel syllable-emphasis is long, it is followed by a short consonant, but if

the vowel is short, then it either gets a long consonant or consonant cluster.”22 These

elements in Icelandic poetry when expressed in musical form result in an incessantly

changing meter.

Sagas

Icelandic identity is inextricably coupled with pride in the Icelandic language and in the traditions of the medieval sagas. The primary forms of literature in which the

Icelandic language was expressed were the sagas and poetry. As Bergendal points out,

“Literature has been music’s prerequisite in every important aspect.”23 The sagas, written between the twelfth and fifteenth centuries24, are considered Iceland’s greatest literary

achievement. “The Icelandic sagas in general, with the exception of the Sturlung group, tell of events that took place within the period 870–1030 (the Landnámatíð, or period of settlement, 870–930; the Söguöld, or Saga Age, 930–1030), but it was not until the

21 Kristján Árnason, “Áhersla og hrynjandi í íslenskum orðum,” Íslenskt mál og almenn málfræði 5 (1983): 53–54.

22 Kristján Árnason, “Athugasemd um lengd hljóða í íslenzku,” Mímir: Blað stúdenta í í slenskum fræðum 14 no. 1 (June 1975): 15.

23 Bergendal, New Music in Iceland, 5.

24 Sources discussing the sagas vary on the specific centuries the sagas were written. It is known, however, that the writing of the sagas began with Ari the Learned in the twelfth century, and continued into the time of foreign rule. The Golden Age of the Saga transpired in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries.

15 thirteenth and fourteenth centuries that the old oral stories were written down in more or

less their present form.”25 These works were used as an impetus of nationalistic expression during the nineteenth century. The characters from the sagas were thought of

as heroes and Icelanders take pride in tracing their lineage to the historical personages

from the age of settlement. Because of the sagas, Icelanders can trace their lineage all the way to the times of Settlement.

The isolation of life in Iceland during the long winter accentuated that Icelandic concern with family and kin which was already the warp and woof of their legal constitution. An early and continuous interest in genealogies was a natural outcome of these twin compulsions and helps to account for the large place occupied by family trees in the Icelandic sagas.26

Although these works were written anonymously, Snorri Sturluson (1178–1241)

is recognized as an author of some of this literature. “Snorri remains the sole medieval

Icelandic writer with an international reputation; his nephew and disciple, Sturla, has but slowly received recognition as historian and saga writer even within his own country.”27

These works were written during a time of great political upheaval in Iceland. The chieftainships at this point had been consolidated in the hands of a few men, including

Snorri. The Norwegian king was looking to claim Iceland under his monarchy. He solicited the help of Snorri, among others, so Icelanders would accept the rule of the

Norwegians. However, Snorri refused this request and returned to Iceland.

No one had been more eager than the young Snorri Sturluson to accept honors and titles at the king’s hands: such favors crowned his own development into a leading, wealthy, and powerful magnate at his minor Icelandic court at Reykholt. . . . Eighteen years later, when King Hákon’s policies were more clear cut and his

25 Jones, 1–2.

26 R. George Thomas, introduction to The Saga of Hvamm-Sturla and The Saga of the Icelanders, vol. 1, Sturlunga Saga, by Julia McGrew, trans. (New York: Twayne Publishers, Inc. and The American- Scandinavian Foundation, 1970), 39.

27 Ibid., 13.

16 interventions in Icelandic affairs were no longer a secret, Snorri left Norway against the king’s express command and thus prepared the way for his own death. One can recognize here the germ of a higher loyalty, a clear patriotism that rose above the warring demands of a king, or kindred, or Church.28

There is evidence to suggest that Snorri wrote his works as patriotic statements to

Icelanders to stand against the Norwegian monarchy. Ari the Wise (also known as Ari fróði, c. 1067–1148) began the practice of writing the sagas in the vernacular rather than

Latin, which others such as Snorri continued. These were stories about Icelanders written for Icelanders, almost certainly to express pride in their heritage and culture by directing attention towards the great heroes of their country.

Whereas the writers of the previous century had accepted foreign models and influences and merged these qualities in their writings of foreign history, the writers of the Sturlung Age—both lay and cleric—find a new subject. They tell the story of their own land. The deeds of its ancient heroes become their single theme; the long decaying virtues of their ancestors become their literary ideal of conduct. The works of Snorri Sturluson and Sturla Þórðarson mark two critical points of change in the evolution from the writing of Norwegian history to Icelandic Family Saga.29

For centuries these stories were passed down orally from generation to generation, even after they had been written down, as an expression of pride in their historical heritage. The heroes of the sagas were prototypes that provided a sense of national identity at a time when Icelanders were losing their freedom. At the time of the writing of the sagas, one might say that pride in national identity became a characteristic of

Icelandic culture. These were not people who thought of themselves as Norwegians anymore; they had created their own identity.

28 Ibid., 28.

29 Ibid., 30–31.

17 The recitation of the sagas in Iceland would take place during kvöldvaka

(“evening wakes”), which were family gatherings that occurred during the winter months

up until the 1930s. In addition, other activities transpired during the kvöldvaka, including

reading of histories, folktales, novels, poetry, sacred works, and ghost stories, singing of

songs, recitation of rímur, competitions in composing verses, and prayers.30 “An indifference to practical affairs became habitual, and the nation found a solace in literary

pursuits.”31 Because of activities such as the kvöldvaka, the sagas became an integral part of Icelandic culture and are recognized as a national treasure.

The tone and mood of the sagas is serious and forthright. These are works on an epic scale. Ker makes the distinction that the word epic “. . .implies some weight and solidity.”32 Kristjánsson elaborates on Ker´s idea:

A saga-author does not know what his characters are thinking, and he is not allowed to guess at their disposition or mood. But he hears their words, and these make manifest their thoughts and opinions. Sagas usually contain much direct speech and dialogue. These both reveal and illuminate the mental world of the personae and fill out the narrative, carry it forward and give it life.33

The heroic element consists of a stoic acceptance of going after fate, no matter what the consequence. As Ker points out, “The most singular thing in the heroic age of

Iceland is that the heroes knew what they were about.”34 Ker continues to note that we see in the Sagas:

30 Tomasson, 122–123.

31 Hermannsson, Icelandic Authors of Today, xii.

32 W. P. Ker, Epic and Romance: Essays on Medieval Literature (New York: Dover Publications, 1957), 4.

33 Jónas Kristjánsson, Eddas and Sagas: Iceland’s Medieval Literature, trans. Peter Foote (Reykjavík: Hið íslenska bókmenntafélag, 1992), 213.

34 Ker, 58.

18 the Northern principle of resistance to all odds, and defiance of ruin. In the North the individual spirit asserts itself more absolutely against the bodily enemies than in Greece; the defiance is made wholly independent of any vestige of prudent consideration; the contradiction, ‘Thought the harder, Heart the keener, Mood the more, as our Might lessens,’ is stated in the most extreme terms.35

The writing style originally contained dialogue that was long, but “gradually speeches in sagas become shorter and colloquial exchange and authentic conversation become commoner.”36

The sagas were recited often in households during evening family gatherings.

Because of this strong role of the Icelandic saga in the home, part of the function of the

sagas throughout Icelandic history was to simultaneously sustain and develop the

Icelandic language. Jones states:

Doubt has been cast on the idea that saga style has direct genetic relation to Icelandic speech. . . . It has also been argued that we must not pay too much attention to comparison with modern Icelandic speech-habits, because it is precisely from sagas that Icelanders have learnt how to tell stories—and the similarities reflect literary influence on speech rather than the reverse. Of course, there must be some element of truth in this claim, but it is a wild exaggeration to suggest that ordinary Icelandic speech is in some way derived from a literary saga-language. What we may safely postulate is some degree of mutual influence.37

The main themes of the sagas are allegiances and revenge. The sagas consist of a weaving of the stories of various important families who are thrown together by dramatic

fate. Jones gives a detailed description of the Viking hero:

There was something elemental, something rough-edged, about the Icelander of the Saga Age which must be understood if we are to make a sympathetic study of Icelandic feud. The professional swashbucklers were in character in their moments of berserk fury, but the sudden rage, the willingness to kill, the blood

35 Ibid., 12.

36 Kristjánsson, 213.

37 Ibid., 212.

19 lust even, may be found in the most settled men. The Icelander was above all a man of his hands, concerned not so much with a theory of life as with the living of it, and thus with a strong tendency to act rather in accordance with personal desires and dictates than by the exercise of reason and calculation. Again, the various expressions of feud and its prosecution by means of blood vengeance or law were part of the everyday life of the people, in much the same category as harvesting or overseas piracy, and like them a matter for one’s own skill and judgment. The men the sagas tell about react to certain simple ideas in a practically unfailing fashion. The virtues they extol are obvious and direct: hospitality, generosity and frankness, bodily strength, bravery both physical and mental, the one finding its means of expression in hard climatic conditions, in warfare and individual prowess, the other in coolness in the face of danger or affliction and a stoical bearing during mental anguish, a sternness and hardness towards one’s fellows, a readiness to take up one’s weapons for any cause that touches one closely, and an independence of thought and action, often expressed in scorn and defiance of results and of other people’s opinions.38

The mood and tone set by the expectations placed upon the saga hero are presented in a realistic and direct narrative manner that captures the distinctive persona of the age of the Vikings.

Another important feature of the sagas is the blood feud. Families, clans, or more importantly, those with strong bonds of friendship sought revenge for those who were assaulted verbally or physically, or murdered. Jones points out that in the sagas:

There is always the risk that a touchy sense of honour may lead a man to seek satisfaction or restitution to an extent not justified by the original wrong, and so invite a further attack. Indeed, this touchy sense of honour is the key to the heroic ideal. The Icelandic term is skapraun—the trial of condition, the test of temper and manhood, the slightest injury to which was an insult and cause of quarrel.”39

In the Viking code of honor, those who did not confront an assault on someone’s honor were thought of as cowards. “How trifling was the cause of feud between the friends Geitir and Spike-Helgi, but it was enough to keep two generations busy; and other

38 Jones, 4.

39 Ibid., 18.

20 histories tell us of ten men slain because of a wrangle over who should first cross a

stream. . . .”40 Jones continues:

These are the men of whom the sagas tell without gloss, primitive and stern, hardy and ready for fight. The unconquerable love of independence which brought so many settlers to Iceland would brook no curtailment in the new home, and the bitter struggle for existence, allied to their warlike tradition and upbringing, led to innumerable disputes and feuds. Just as tradition was the chief formative element of the sagas, their chief literary theme was that of revenge, and this was so because Icelandic family tradition was primarily one of revenge. The principle of the blood feud dominated their life, and it was natural that it should so dominate their literature, oral and written.41

Hence, the writing style of the sagas emerged from the actual history of the people themselves. It was a blunt and candid representation of a time period before foreign rule and an unhesitatingly descriptive account of people and events for posterity.

Poetry

Along with the sagas, poetry was recited widely during Icelandic kvöldvakas, and as a result, has been fundamental to Icelandic culture through the ages. During the

Viking Age, Icelanders were popular in kingly courts around Europe where they would recite their poetry and receive gifts for their excellent recitations. “And soon it came about that among the Scandinavian nations the Icelanders had a monopoly, as it were, of the art of poetry, and became the main authorities on Scandinavian history and traditions.”42 Egill Skallagrimsson, in a famous story from his saga, saved his own life by composing a complicated poem overnight for a Norwegian king.

40 Ibid., 18–19.

41 Ibid., 16.

42 Hermannsson, Icelandic Authors of Today, vii.

21 After the end of the Commonwealth, the amount of poetry and poets declined, but

never ceased to exist. During the time of nationalistic pride in Iceland, poems often were

used as vehicles to stir up patriotism in the Icelandic heart while at the same time

scolding the Icelanders for not being more proactive in their own future. The nationalist

poets of Iceland were farmers (throughout the pre-Romantic and Romantic period),

politicians or political figures (Romanticists), natural scientists (Romanticists), and

clergymen (pre-Romantic). They were also lawyers and lecturers in Icelandic history.

Many studied literature, especially Old Norse philology. Some were philosophers.

Others even wrote folk songs.43

There were two main types of poetry before the nineteenth century in Iceland.

One was skaldic poetry, which was established in Norway and carried over to Iceland,

where it was preserved.

. . .it was only in Iceland that the formal poetry of the Norwegian skalds was remembered and preserved, as well as the simpler Edda poems. This is significant as a proof of the intense interest in the art of poetry which must have been taken by the Icelandic people as a whole; in no other way could such a volume of poetry have been preserved by purely oral tradition down to the thirteenth century. To bear this in mind helps towards understanding the widespread and lasting interest in the new type of poetry which succeeded the skaldic; the current had changed its course, but flowed as broad and as strong as before.”44

The other important type of poetry is the rímur, with its complicated verse structure. The meter was a central factor in the construction of this type of poetry.

43 Richard Beck, History of Icelandic Poets, vol. 34, Islandica: An annual relating to Iceland and the Fiske Collection in Cornell University Library, ed. Kristján Karlsson (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1950). 4–9, 10–60, 61–73.

44 Sir William A. Craigie, Introduction to Rímur earlier than 1550, vol. 1, Specimens of Icelandic Rímur from the Fourteenth to the Nineteenth Century, with an introduction by Sir William A. Craigie (London: Thomas Nelson and Sons Ltd., 1952), 281.

22 Consider the development of rímur (rhymes), a very artificial, very difficult, and wholly indigenous form. This genre consists of verses of four (or, rarely, three) lines In the most difficult form of rímur, every word in the first line must rhyme with the corresponding word in the third line, the same with each word in the second and fourth lines. In addition, the verse must make sense read backward word by word as well as forward! . . . The composing of rímur began in the fourteenth century and was well established among the whole Icelandic population by the first half of the fifteenth century, although its practice has declined greatly in this century. The result of the development of this verse form has been to preserve ‘throughout all classes of the population, a feeling for language and rhythm, a knowledge of the past, an interest in myth and legend, which helped as much as anything to maintain the continuity of Icelandic literature.’45

In the rímur, the verse was in a simpler form and more narrative than in the skaldic poems.46 There was much emphasis on “the distinction between short and long

syllables. . . .The first line of each couplet had four stressed syllables.”47 The poetry was intoned by the person reciting the poem, to which others would dance. Dancing to the rímur ceased as the content of the poem forced the listener to focus more on the language and the narrative.48 The idea for rímur was foreign,

. . .from that form of popular poetry which, originating in France, had been introduced into Denmark by the thirteenth century at latest. The special feature of this was that the singing of the words was accompanied by dancing. This soon attained great popularity, and gave rise to the composition, in Danish, of suitable pieces of verse containing a narrative of either a historical or a legendary nature in simple language and metre, and provided with a refrain to be sung with or after each verse by the company of dancers. From Denmark the popularity of this new type of poetry rapidly passed to Norway, and from one or both of these countries came also to be known in Iceland. . . .49

45 Tomasson, 162.

46 Craigie, Rímur earlier than 1550, 281.

47 Ibid., 294–295.

48 Ibid., 283.

49 Ibid., 282.

23 As has been discussed earlier, the Icelandic language has a strong rhythmic pulse

as a result of syllabic stress. This was an integral feature of the music that accompanied

the poetry:

Taking their origin from the ballads as they did, the earliest rímur would certainly be sung to ballad tunes, although simple recitation or reading aloud may soon have been adopted in place of this by those who were unable to sing. These tunes at first would naturally be those to which rímur in metres akin to the ballads could readily be sung; others would be added in course of time either to fit in with the new metres, or merely to introduce variety. . . . It is possible that the practice of prolonging the last word of each verse (að draga seim) may go back to some of the early tunes. Although rímur were so commonly sung, and particular tunes were appropriated to different metres, there is no indication that in composing them the poet was at all influenced by the tunes to which they might be sung.50

The subject matter of the rímur usually consisted of existing stories, such as the sagas, but more often it was based on fictitious material. “In this respect also the rímur agree with the French chansons de geste and the English romances. In these, even when the persons are historical, as they sometimes are, the narrative is largely or entirely fictitious, and the scenes and incidents are of the same type as in the rímur.”51 However, the later examples of rímur use the sagas with more frequency. Between 1550–1880, when rímur dominated the literary output, and more frequently after that time, the weather and climate of Iceland is the subject of the poems, “especially the long dark nights and the cold of winter.”52

The rímur were largely responsible for the continuity of a literary tradition in

Iceland, especially between the fourteenth and the seventeenth century, when cultural

50 Ibid., 286.

51 Ibid., 287.

52 Ibid., 324–325.

24 activity was at its lowest point.53 They became quite popular during the seventeenth and

eighteenth centuries. “The great variety of subjects represented by the rímur which have

been mentioned, and others which might be added, brings out very clearly the wide range

of the prose literature which circulated, mainly in manuscript, in Iceland in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, and shows with what interest much of this was read.”54 The rímur also had the important function of contributing to the preservation of

the Icelandic language.55

During the nineteenth century, poets would often refer to either landscape or the sagas in their poetry. Poets such as Einar Benediktsson (1864–1940), Bjarni Thorarensen

(1786–1841), and Jónas Hallgrímsson (1807–1845) were influential on the Romantic poets in Iceland in their patriotic works. “The influence of romanticism is seen in the works of these poets, combined with strong national feeling. Not infrequently do they find inspiration and subject-matter in the sagas and the history of their country.”56 Other

representative poets include Grímur Thomsen (1820–1896), Benedikt Gröndal (1826–

1907), Steingrímur Þorsteinsson (1831–1913), Matthias Jochumsson (1835–1920),

Hannes Hafstein (1861–1922), and Þorsteinn Erlingsson (1858–1914).

Throughout history, Icelandic poets often turn to nature as a subject for their poems, extolling the beauty of their country, a love of spring and summer or the power of natural forces; the subject matter spans themes from the ferocious North Atlantic Ocean

53 Ibid., 289–290.

54 Sir William A. Craigie, Introduction to Rímur from 1550–1800. Vol. 2, Specimens of Icelandic Rímur from the Fourteenth to the Nineteenth Century, with an introduction by Sir William A. Craigie (London: Thomas Nelson and Sons Ltd., 1952), 320.

55 Craigie, Rímur earlier than 1550, 291.

56 Beck, Icelandic Lyrics, 20.

25 to the Northern Lights. Poems on nature and patriotism continued to be written into the

twentieth century.

Nature

Scholars have often linked the effect of nature with nationalistic character of a

country. Johann Gottfried von Herder’s views are paraphrased by Björnsdóttir:

The natural contours on earth were nowhere exactly the same, and thus the forces of nature in each and every region on earth were unique. The country’s unique natural characteristics set their inalienable mark on the language, culture, and history, which were, according to Herder, organic forces rooted in nature, and in that way played a key role in the construction of the national spirit, das Volkgeist. . . . Since no two countries had the same natural features, no two countries could generate the same kind of national spirit. Accordingly, there was no universal mind or universal human, only a national mind and a national human.57

Correspondingly, the natural forces and remarkable natural beauty of Iceland’s

landscape have had an enormous impact on the cultural life of its people. In Icelandic art,

literature, and music, the incredible natural surroundings are a constant and pervasive

theme.

Because Iceland has an oceanic climate, the country has mild winters and

summers. In addition, the warm Gulf Stream, which flows along the island’s southern

and western coasts, makes the climate much milder than one would expect considering

Iceland’s name and location. However, the Gulf Stream also has its downside; it brings the milder Atlantic air mass in contact with the colder arctic air making the weather in

Iceland rather unstable and often windy.

57 Inga Dóra Björnsdóttir, “The Mountain Woman and the Presidency,” in Images of Contemporary Iceland: Everyday Lives and Global Contexts, ed. Gísli Pálsson and E. Paul Durrenberger (Iowa City: University of Iowa Press, 1996), 108.

26 Most of Iceland’s economy is based on the fishing industry. The sea is seen as an

integral part of Icelandic culture, so much so that the seaman is viewed as the national hero. “As fishing became the basis of the newly independent republic’s economy and

entered its expansive phase, skippers were conceived through the lenses of independence romanticism as individualistic, heroic persons struggling against the sea.”58 Because of the unstable conditions of the weather, the North Atlantic Ocean can be a difficult arena for fishing purposes.

The weather is not the only example of instability in Iceland’s natural environment. The island is located on the North Atlantic Ridge where Iceland was formed by undersea volcanic explosions. “Volcanic activity has always been the

Icelander’s unpredictable companion, usually in the guise of the harbinger of disaster.”59

At the same time, the glaciers on the island are leftovers of the last ice age. Sometimes

these two forces mix together, as was the case in the volcanic eruptions underneath

Vatnajökull Glacier in the late 1990s.60 The volcanic activity along with human

consumption throughout Icelandic history has left very little forestation, so there is a

naked and barren character to the Icelandic landscape. However, because of the constant

weather changes, the landscape also often changes color. Icelandic landscape artists such as Ásgrímur Jónsson and Jóhannes Kjarval, among numerous others, captured this

element in their paintings, where mountains contain various shades of purples, pinks,

58 E. Paul Durrenberger, “Every Icelander a Special Case,” in Images of Contemporary Iceland: Everyday Lives and Global Contexts, ed. Gísli Pálsson and E. Paul Durrenberger (Iowa City: University of Iowa Press, 1996), 185.

59 Bergendal, 1.

60 During the writing of this thesis, another volcanic explosion took place under Vatnajökull Glacier at Grímsvötn in November 2004.

27 greys, blues, whites, oranges, blacks, reds, and of course, greens, all at once.

Although weather and disruptive natural forces are not mentioned often in the

sagas (although the historical setting for several of the sagas took place in some of the

most dramatically striking parts of the country), these are elements that Icelanders live

with on a daily basis. “The well-rooted image of Iceland’s premodern human ecology is

of a population struggling to survive in an inhospitable environment, pursuing European-

style farming too near the Arctic and some highly active volcanoes, always on the margin

of survival.”61 The constant change and unpredictability in weather and climate invades people´s lives, mobility, safety, disposition, and frame of mind. The diverse geographical features and incessantly changing colors of the landscape are ever-present traits in the

Icelandic natural element.

Folk music

The combination of elements such as language, literature, and landscape affect the subject matter, mood, and musical material of a nation’s folk music tradition.

Iceland’s folk music tradition dates back to medieval times, but during the period of

foreign rule until the time of nationalistic rebirth in the nineteenth century, the

musical traditions froze in time and very little new material was produced. “. . .

Instrumental playing was known to the first generations of Icelanders. Concrete evidence showing that Icelanders played musical instruments themselves, however, is lacking. On the other hand, there are plentiful indications in the old Icelandic

61 Daniel E. Vasey, “Premodern and Modern Constructions of Population Regimes.” in Images of Contemporary Iceland: Everyday Lives and Global Contexts, ed. Gísli Pálsson and E. Paul Durrenberger (Iowa City: University of Iowa Press, 1996), 149.

28 literature of singing being an integral part of the culture.”62 The manuscripts dating

from the time of foreign rule demonstrate that most of the music-making was of a religious nature.63

There are two main types of recognized indigenous Icelandic folk songs. The first is the rímur, a rhythmic song that was intoned in a nasal tone during the recitation of Icelandic poetry, as I have discussed above. The sources of the poetry were most often the sagas. According to Sveinbjörnsson, the rímur could contain as many as two thousand verses.64 “The vocal range of a ríma is often narrow, and the

tonality is ordinarily that of a minor or a major scale; but the Lydian mode, for

example, is not uncommonly encountered in rímur.”65 The literary sources for rímur

date back to the 14th century, but the musical sources in existence only date back to

the 17th century. There are also transcriptions of rímur-singing that were made in the

19th century by Bjarni Þorsteinsson and others. According to Ingólfsson, “There is no

way of knowing if the style remained roughly the same throughout this long period, or if it changed, and how.”66 The performers of these folk songs were often

“wandering singers who specialized in the art” and would entertain at Icelandic farmsteads.67 Each rímur singer had his own melody and way of singing. “It can address subjects as diverse as tales of ancient warriors, life’s lessons, songs to the sea,

62 Ragnarsson, 11.

63 Ibid., 12.

64 Bjarki Sveinbjörnsson, conversation with author, Reykjavík, Iceland, 22 June 2005.

65 Ragnarsson, 36.

66 Árni Heimir Ingólfsson, e-mail to author, November 4, 2004.

67 Bergendal, 11.

29 and how to buy a horse. . . . In its original performance setting, a rímur cycle could

last hours.”68 Indeed, some rímur could be two thousand verses long. The rímur is characterized by constant changing meters because of the rhythm of the Icelandic language. According to Ragnarsson, “The relationship to skaldic poetry manifests itself by the rules of alliteration, the strict counting of syllables, and in the use of internal rhyme and diction.”69 At the end of each verse, the last note is elongated.

Each rímur singer had his own melody and way of singing.

The other type of Icelandic folk song is the tvísöngur, or “twinsongs,” which

most commonly consist of two-part singing in parallel fifths with some voice-

crossing,70 although variations of this form exist. “. . . The motion of parallel perfect fifths is characteristic for all these songs. Unisons and octaves are also common. . . .

All other intervals are rare. . . . The interval of a fourth is almost non-existent in tvísöngur, and parallel fourths never occur.”71 The tvísöngur were sung very slowly in relatively unvarying rhythms consisting mostly of quarter and eighth notes.

Additionally, most of the tvísöngur were in Lydian mode.

Tvísöngur is customarily notated with F-natural as the ‘tonic;’ the only accidental to occur is the F# an augmented octave above, which results from doubling B-natural at the fifth above. The tones which in conventional harmony function as leading-tones do not do so in tvísöngur. The singing of linear tritones seems not to have bothered the Icelandic singers; in tvísöngur tritones are not treated as dissonances requiring resolution.72

68 Hilmar Örn Hilmarsson, liner notes to Rímur: A collection from Steindór Andersen, CD Recording (Canada: Naxos World 76042-2, 2003).

69 Ragnarsson, 21.

70 Ingólfsson, “These are the Things You Never Forget”: The Written and Oral Traditions of Icelandic Tvísöngur, Ph.D. Thesis, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University, April 2003, 1.

71 Ragnarsson, 35.

72 Ragnarsson, 35–36.

30

The characteristics described above are demonstrated in the well-known

national Icelandic tvísöngur in the example that follows, “Ísland, farsælda frón”

(Iceland, prosperous land):

Example 1, Icelandic folksong, text by Jónas Hallgrímsson, “Ísland, farsælda frón”

The tvísöngur, although recognized as an important genre of Icelandic folk song, was also regarded with a sense of shame.

Tvísöngur presents the modern Icelander with a sound-image that is stern, primitive, and historically loaded. It provides a glimpse backwards into a past about which Icelanders are decidedly ambivalent: on one hand, it embodies the glories of the early state-republic and the powerful identification with nature inscribed in the text to the most popular tvísöngur (Ísland, farsælda frón); on the other, it is a remnant of the dark, gloomy Middle Ages, the period of Iceland´s humiliation in the eyes of the world.73

In his instructive doctoral thesis on tvísöngur, Ingólfsson notes that this form

of Icelandic folk song “is found in Icelandic manuscripts dating back to the fifteenth

century, and was also a notable feature of musical life in the late eighteenth and

nineteenth centuries, in orally transmitted form.”74 He continues,

73 Ingólfsson, “These are the Things You Never Forget,” 242.

74 Ibid., 1.

31 The primitive-sounding parallel fifths, as they were still being sung in certain parts of Iceland in 1900, were a direct link to the organum of Musica enchiriadis. . . . Just as Iceland´s cultural “deep-freeze” had guarded the language of the Vikings in virtually unchanged form, so its musical traditions had shunned further development for close to a thousand years.75

Musicologist Göran Bergendal points out that:

The technique of singing in two parts was applied to both profane and sacred texts. It was always men who performed, the melody being sung by one or more singers while the more improvised counterpoint was naturally always sung by a solo voice. The rather special and somewhat crude, primitive sound of the tvísöngur has fairly often been used as a sort of trademark of Icelandic music. . . . Its special characteristics have also been used in instrumental art music, both as direct quotations . . . and as a source of inspiration for original compositions (as in Jón Nordal’s double concerto, Tvísöngur). The interest in tvísöngur is partly due to the possibility that this historical tradition will lead back to an Icelandic musical golden age.”76

Church authorities worked to eliminate the folk songs of Iceland. Bergendal continues, “In the Laurentius Kálfsson Saga, it is written that Laurentius, who was bishop during the 1320s, took vigorous action against bad practice in church singing.

He did not want to allow the singing of tripla [and] tvísyngja, and he denounced it as mere foolishness (leikaraskapur).”77 However, his efforts obviously were in vain, as this music has survived into the present time. “But this opposition of the Church and the general cultural isolation of the country helped prevent folk music from developing or changing much. It therefore seems likely that surviving folk music, which was not systematically written down until the last quarter of the nineteenth century, is fairly representative of Icelandic secular music of the last centuries.”78 On

75 Ibid., 2.

76 Bergendal, 11.

77 Ibid., 12.

78 Ragnarsson, 12.

32 the other hand, it wasn’t as continuous a tradition as many sources claim. According

to Ingólfsson, “the nineteenth-century oral tradition, far from representing the unbroken transmission of Viking-age polyphony, can be traced back only to the late eighteenth century; precisely the period when musical literacy, in the midst of

increasing poverty, natural disasters, and educational meltdown, reached its nadir.”79

He continues:

Virtually all writers on Icelandic polyphony – few as they are – have been influenced by Þorsteinsson´s view of tvísöngur as consisting of a stylistically homogeneous group of pieces with a straightforward and unbroken transmission history. This view was essentially Þorsteinsson´s own construct, shaped by a nationalist agenda and a romantic view of his own culture.80

The tvísöngur had an unusual cycle of transmission, first as a written form of music, then as an orally-transmitted tradition. According to Ingólfsson, it is not as remarkable as one may think that this type of folk song survived for as long as it did.

“Outside of the confines of the church, popular fifth-singing appears to have been common during the Middle Ages and well beyond. The existence of such an oral practice in Iceland can thus hardly be seen as exceptional, except for its documentation into the twentieth century.”81

The mood of the Icelandic folk song is best described by the composer Jón

Leifs, who was a contemporary of Nordal and a collector of Icelandic folk songs:

As one can well imagine, the spirit of Icelandic folk music is to be found in the countryside, in the scenery and in all the disasters that the nation has had to survive. The folk songs are deeply serious and express perhaps more than the folk songs of other countries harshness and severity. Joy does appear, but

79 Ingólfsson, “These are the Things You Never Forget,” 8–9.

80 Ibid., 11.

81 Ibid., 10.

33 often in the form of grotesque ferocity and cold laughter. Religious humility and an anxious gloom are also to be discerned but the hardness overshadows everything.”82

Bergendal points out that there is a multitude of influences and styles among

Icelandic composers of the twentieth century, “but if there is any relationship, then it must be that nearly every Icelandic composer has made use of Icelandic material in his music at some stage. The difference lies in how it has been used—as basic material or with the aim of establishing an Icelandic style.”83

As has been discussed, outside of continental literary works, Icelanders did not experience five hundred years of European musical, intellectual, or cultural developments. Art music production did not occur inside Iceland until the late nineteenth century. Therefore, the history of Iceland’s art music does not have as long a tradition as the history of its folk music. For example, the first public concert in Iceland did not occur until 1876,84 and the first symphony orchestra performance in

Iceland was in 1926 (the year Nordal was born); this was the first time a Beethoven

symphony was performed in the country. Even within the church, Icelanders used two monodic hymnbooks dating from the sixteenth century for their sacred services up until the mid-nineteenth century.85 During these hundreds of years of Danish rule, the forms of the Icelandic tvísöngur and rímur were more or less preserved.

Bergendal remarks: “The Reformation reached Iceland during the 1550’s. This meant

82 Jón Leifs, Íslenzkt tónlistareðli (Reykjavík: Skírnir, 1922), 13; quoted in Göran Bergendal, New Music in Iceland (Reykjavík: Icelandic Music Information Centre, 1991), 40–41.

83 Bergendal, 60.

84 Ibid., 15.

85 Ibid.

34 a considerable strengthening of the influence of the Danish colonial power that

quickly and effectively cut off most of the island’s contact with the outside world.

The European Renaissance thus never reached Iceland.”86 Therefore, Icelanders did not hear about developments in polyphony until the nineteenth century.

Simultaneous with the movement for independence from Denmark, an art music community banded together and rallied to generate more interest in Western

European art music. That community has flourished from its inception in the late nineteenth century up to the present time. What Europe took five hundred years to

develop, Icelanders have assimilated in about a century. Guy Rickards claimed that

by the early 1990s, “Iceland boasted more concerts and recitals per head of population than any other country in Europe.”87

What is interesting to notice about the direction that the Romantic nationalists took in establishing an art music tradition in Iceland was that the traditional forms of

Icelandic tvísöngur and rímur were ignored as a source of musical material. The reason, as mentioned before, was because these forms were associated in people’s minds at that time with the difficulties the Icelanders had lived through for the previous five hundred years and was seen as a source of inferiority and embarrassment. Therefore, new folk songs were written, ironically enough, in the style of German Romantic lyricism, transmitted by way of Denmark. Grímsdóttir elaborates on this paradoxical phenomenon:

Danish music in the 19th century was itself strongly influenced by the German Romantic tradition since the eminent musicians who were the main advocates of Danish Romanticism like for instance Niels Gade, who had been

86 Ibid., 13.

87 Guy Rickards, “Record Review,” Tempo no. 181 (June 1992): 64.

35 conducting assistant to Mendelssohn for some time during his stay in Leipzig. . . . It is therefore no coincidence that the first Icelandic musicians who went abroad for further studies around middle of the nineteenth century headed for Denmark or Germany. This was perhaps not an unnatural choice since they were following the example of many foreign musicians before them, except in their case it was the only choice. Later on these musical pioneers had the freedom to mould the soil out of which the contemporary Icelandic music scene has grown and consequently their responsibility was great as with everyone who sets an example.88

Later in the twentieth century, composers began to use traditional rímur and tvísöngur folk songs as sources of compositional material.

88 Nína Margrét Grímsdóttir, Íslensk píanótónlist – saga og þróun, in Íslensk Píanótónlist I, ed. Marek Podhajski (Akureyri: Tónlistarskólinn á Akureyri, 1992), 30–31.

36 Chapter 2: Nordal

Jón Nordal is one of the composers who pioneered the modern music movement

in Iceland. His father, the prominent philologist Sigurður Nordal (1886–1974), was

Ambassador of Iceland in Denmark from 1951 to 1957, and during that time, Nordal absorbed many musical influences in Copenhagen. He traveled abroad in 1949 to perform and study in Paris, Rome, and Zürich, and then to Darmstadt in the summers of

1956 and 1957. His composition studies from 1947–1949 had been with Jón Þórarinsson, who had recently returned to Iceland from studying with Paul Hindemith at Yale

University.89 Nordal began teaching at the Reykjavík College of Music in 1957 and was principal of the school from 1959–1992. He co-founded the composer’s association

“Musica Nova” in 1959 and was elected a member of the Royal Music Academy of

Stockholm in 1968.90 He has been nominated for the Nordic Council Music Prize several times for his compositions,91 and Rostropovich commissioned him to compose a work for the 1982 “Scandinavia Today” festivities in the United States.92

In the conversation granted by Nordal to the author of this thesis, the composer asserted that his music is greatly influenced by Icelandic literature, but he discounts the idea that his music is otherwise connected to national elements of Icelandic culture such as folk music.93 The reason for Nordal acknowledging the influence of literature on his

89 Bergendal, 67.

90 Árni [Heimir] Ingólfsson, “Nordal, Jon,” in New Grove Dictionary of Music and Musicians 2d ed. Online (Accessed 2 December 2002), .

91 “Nominations for the Nordic Council’s Music Prize 2002,” Nordic Sounds no. 4 (December 2001): 19.

92 Rickards, “Record Review,” 55.

93 Nordal, conversation with author, 15 August 2002, Reykjavík, Iceland.

37 music is undoubtedly because of the impact of his father, Sigurður Nordal, who was one

of the founders of the Icelandic School in Old Norse studies. As a professor at the

University of Iceland, Sigurður Nordal became one of the leading philologists

specializing in Old Norse literature. His work was considered so important that in 1986,

an institute was founded at the University of Iceland under his name with the purpose of

supporting research in Icelandic culture.94 Icelandic ballad singers would come from all around the country to visit Sigurður Nordal and recite their poetry, and the young Jón

Nordal would ask the older people to sing old Icelandic folk songs for him.95

The culmination and completion of Nordal’s neo-tonal period was the one- movement Piano Concerto.96 Composed in sonata form in the style of a toccata, the

Concerto was completed in 1956 in Rome after a long compositional process. In

1957 Nordal premiered the work with Wilhelm Schleuning, the conductor of the

National Symphony of Dresden. Icelanders consider this concert to be an important event because this was a concert of an Icelandic composer performing his own work in mainland Europe. Sveinbjörnsson recalls:

the Minister of Education sent an announcement to the newspapers in Reykjavík in April of the same year where it says among other things: “. . . The work and its performance are highly praised and it is said that the performer and the orchestra were received sincerely at the conclusion of the performance, and the audience numbered as many as the hall could hold. Most critics regret that they have not had much opportunity to listen to

94 Hálfdanarson, 114–115.

95 Bergendal, 65–66.

96 Sveinbjörnsson, “Tónlist Jóns Nordal og þróun tónlistarmála í Reykjavík á 6. áratugnum og fyrri hluta 7. áratugarins” (M.M. thesis, Aalborg Universitetscenter, 1993), 49. Up to the time of the publication of my doctoral document, Sveinbjörnsson’s thesis is one of only two comprehensive scholarly analyses focusing on Nordal’s compositions (the other is Tinna Thorsteinsdóttir’s Das Klavierkonzert in Island nach 1950, written in 2000). His thesis is a theoretical and historical analysis that focuses mainly on Nordal’s Adagio, although there is some discussion of works leading up to the Adagio and successive works.

38 Icelandic music and therefore cannot judge whether the work has a clear national flair, but they agree that here is a carefully written work of merit and a listenable work of contemporary music.”97

The critics in Reykjavík were, for the most part, just as complimentary, although one reviewer from the newspaper Þjóðviljinn was critical of the atonality of the work.98

This critique sparked a debate in the press regarding modern works in Iceland. Although the Piano Concerto was generally well-received, it has not been performed very often since the premiere.

The Piano Concerto was composed among three orchestral works, Concerto for Orchestra,99 Bjarkamál,100 and Brotaspil.101 The reason for the large amount of

time between the Piano Concerto and Brotaspil was because Nordal had attended the

music courses at Darmstadt and was experimenting with the serial techniques he had learned there. Icelandic audiences rejected Brotaspil because of its serial procedures.102 After this failure, Nordal re-evaluated his compositional style, which led to Adagio103, considered to be the beginning of his mature style.

Nordal’s Concerto (and his compositions during the 1940s and 1950s) was a sign of a departure from the compositional style established in Iceland up to that time.

In his 1985 summary of Icelandic piano music composer Hjálmar Ragnarsson comments that: “Not until after the Second World War, can one speak of “flowering” of Icelandic piano music. A new generation, new winds of

97 Ibid.

98 Ibid., 49–50.

99 Nordal, Concerto for Orchestra (Reykjavík: Iceland Music Information Centre, 1949).

100 Ibid., Bjarkamál (Reykjavík: Iceland Music Information Centre, 1956).

101 Ibid., Brotaspil (Reykjavík: Iceland Music Information Centre, 1962).

102 Bergendal, 68.

103 Nordal, Adagio (Reykjavík: Iceland Music Information Centre, 1966).

39 change from abroad, comes to the fore.” Here, Hjálmar is referring to the influence from such trail-blazers as Hindemith and Bartok which can be found in Icelandic piano music in compositions dated in the 40s 50s and 60s, especially in works such as . . . Jón Nordal´s Concerto for piano and orchestra . . .104

Grímsdóttir makes a concise analysis of Nordal’s Concerto:

The orchestra includes strings, a double wind section and percussion. Although written in one movement and based on two contrasting subjects the work is subtly divided into sections. The intervals of a perfect fourth combined with chromaticism and accented counterpoint along with frequent changing of the metre are the hallmarks of this work. Neither a sense of key nor a tonal center is encountered throughout the concerto as a whole but they do occur as isolated events kept apart by tireless sequences of chromatic semiquavers.105

Thorsteinsdóttir adds:

The concerto is rhythmic, with marked accents, which the percussion underlines. Definite rhythms work as motives throughout the entire work. On the whole one could describe the concerto as a toccata, and the composer also had in the beginning an idea to call it as such. The piano part, in particular, is written with a strong toccata character, in running sixteenth notes and in a similar style as that of other composers of the twentieth century, for example Prokofieff. In between one finds long melodic and expressive lines, which form a counterbalance against the concise toccata style. The composer frequently uses contrapuntal and canon-like compositional methods as well, and one finds a fugato in the piece. The entirety makes a melodic impression.106

104 Grímsdóttir, 34.

105 Ibid., 35.

106 Tinna Thorsteinsdóttir, Das Klavierkonzert in Island nach 1950, (Detmold-Münster, Germany: Hochschule für Musik Detmold-Münster, Germany, 2000), 26.

40 Chapter 3: Influences

Non-nationalistic influences

Scholars have cited Bartók and Hindemith as sources of inspiration or influence on Nordal’s Piano Concerto. Thorsteinsdóttir remarks:

About this concerto it was said that therein the influences of Bartók and Hindemith could be heard. And one can very well hear the tendency towards the music of these masters, but no strong influences can be ascertained. The composer himself says that for a while Bartók had had a large influence on him, but on the concerto he says the art of working it out was probably in a “Hindemithian” style. “There were a whole lot of concertos in a similar style…”. “This is actually only the customary European mixture…”. Here the composer is in danger of giving an incomplete picture of his piece, as it is still written in a very personal style.107

Thorsteinsdóttir continues, “Jón Nordal’s compositions from his student and the following years according to his one statement, ‘one-sidedly’ find their expression in

Hindemith’s methods.”108 In an interview on Icelandic State Radio, Nordal discussed the influence of his teacher, Jón Þórarinsson, and his teacher’s connection to Hindemith:

I just wrote in the old key structure, both naturally in major and minor and in church modes, used old triads and such. But Hindemith was much freer in his connection with keys, and built much of his sound up on fourths, and this changed the style much, it became drier and different and this was naturally less accessible for people. Jón [Þórarinsson] told me that people now said that [he] had ruined this promising young man by teaching him all this disgrace, but the truth is I learned enormously from Jón and he was an excellent teacher. We were very connected, but he taught in a very definite style, that is the case. Naturally one should be able to free oneself again if one is not in agreement with it, the fact is, that one goes back to the old, this was just a stage in the development of maturity.109

107 Thorsteinsdóttir, 25.

108 Thorsteinsdóttir, 22.

109 Nordal, interview by Guðmundur Emilsson, Tónskáldarkynning, first program, Icelandic National Radio Service, 25 March 1979; quoted in Sveinbjörnsson, Tónlist Jóns Nordal, 44.

41 So the uncertainty remains as to what extent Nordal’s Piano Concerto

represents an international modern style consistent with these composers and to what extent it projects Icelandic folkloric elements and flavor. To assist with answering this question, some main recognized features of Bartók’s and Hindemith’s

compositions are listed in Table 1 along with a column listing features of Icelandic

music generally recognized by scholars in Icelandic music:110

110 These scholars in Icelandic music include Bergendal, Ingólfsson, Leifs, Ragnarsson, and Sveinbjörnsson, among others.

42 Table 1. Features of the music of Bartók, Hindemith, and Icelandic folk music

Bartók111 Hindemith112 Icelandic Music • Intervals of minor sevenths • Intervals of 4ths and 5ths • Intervals of 5ths (tvísöngur) and minor ninths, and intervals (resulting from overtone series • Changing meters (rímur) of Major 2nds and minor 7ths, and popular songs of medieval • Basic counterpoint interval class [1] and [2] Germany) (tvísöngur) respectively, arranged in • Changing meters • Heavy accents (rímur) symmetrical tetrachords such • Counterpoint • Lydian mode and resulting as: (0167) and (0246). • Tonal centers tritone interval (tvísöngur) • Changing meters • Emphasis on linear writing • Hymnodic writing • Counterpoint • Rhythmically steady • Elongated notes (both • Heavy accents (influence of Baroque) tvísöngur and rímur) • Modal writing, including • Used Baroque molds, such as • Narrow range of melodic octatonic, pentatonic, and the concerto grosso, toccata and writing (rímur) Lydian scalar modes fugue, passacaglia and chaconne, • Repeated notes (rímur) • Use of Sonata Allegro form as models • Free style removes in all three of his Piano association with tonality: Concerti leading-tone functions are not • Tone clusters over wide characteristic; the V- I stretches relationship is not functional • Percussive treatment of the piano • Fragmentary treatment of thematic material • Use of tonal centricity in Third Piano Concerto (tonal center of E) • Use of Golden Mean

From the table above, common themes are apparent between the international influences and the Icelandic indigenous elements. Between Bartók and Icelandic music, both have heavy accents and the use of modal writing such as Lydian mode. Hindemith

111 The author refers the reader to several sources for further information on Bartók’s style of writing, including Elliott Antokoletz, Victoria Fischer, and Benjamin Suchoff, Bartók Perspectives: Man, Composer, and Ethnomusicologist (New York: Oxford University Press), 2000; Elliott Antokoletz, The Music of Béla Bartók: A Study of Tonality and Progression in Twentieth-Century Music (Berkley: University of California Press), 1984; T. and P.J. Bachmann, “An Analysis of Béla Bartók’s Music through Fibonaccian Numbers and the Golden Mean,” Musical Quarterly 65 (1979): 72; Ernö Lendvai, Béla Bartók: An Analysis of his Music (London: Kahn & Averill), 1971; Robert P. Morgan, Twentieth-Century Music: A History of Musical Style in Modern Europe and America (New York: W.W. Norton and Company), 1991; and Paul Wilson, The Music of Béla Bartók (New Haven: Yale University Press), 1992.

112 The author refers the reader to several sources for further information on Hindemith’s style of writing, including Hindemith’s The Craft of Musical Composition, vol. 1, 4th ed. (New York: Schott), 1942; David Neumeyer, The Music of Paul Hindemith (New Haven: Yale University Press), 1986; Robert P. Morgan, Twentieth-Century Music: A History of Musical Style in Modern Europe and America (New York,

43 and Icelandic music both use fifths as an important interval. Bartók, Hindemith, and

Icelandic music put an emphasis on counterpoint, although Bartók and Hindemith utilize much more learned renderings. Bartók and Hindemith make use of tonal centers, while

Icelandic music leans more towards a freely tonal style of composing in which rules of functional harmony are put aside, although they are not ignored completely. The common feature amongst all three is changing meters. All of these correlations are not surprising, as two main features of music from the twentieth century were neoclassicism and use of folk music elements.

Further, if we diagram the form of Nordal´s Piano Concerto, showing what collections are most prominent in each part of the form and in the expression of each theme, we see many correlations to both the foreign and indigenous influences (see Table

2).

W.W. Norton and Company), 1991; and Luther Noss, Paul Hindemith in the United States (Urbana, IL: University of Illinois Press), 1989.

44 Table 2. Set theoretical analysis of the form of Jón Nordal´s Piano Concerto

mm. 1–7 mm. 8–12 mm.19–20 mm. 21–22 mm. 22–25

Form Orchestral Piano exposition exposition

Collection OctO,1 mm. 8–11 is Pentatonic Chromatic Semi- chromatic, diatonic/ mm. 11–12 chromatic is WT0 Feature PC <0167> <0167> <027> <0167> <0167> Sets <0134> <147T> <0134> <0158> <0347> <0134> <0347> <0358> <0347> <0158> <027> <047E> <0358> <037T> <027> <027> Prime (013) (0167) (027) (0167) (0167) Form (0167) (0369) (0134) (0158) (0347) (0134) (0347) (0358) (0347) (0158) (027) (0158) (0358) (0358) (027) (027) Tonal C C F C G Center transitioning to F

Style Eclectic Eclectic Hindemith Eclectic Eclectic (which is common to Bartók)

45

mm. 27–33 mm. 50–51 mm. 78–82 mm. 118– mm. 131– 124 134

Form Exposition, 2nd theme, piano entrance

Collection WT0, WT1 Oct0,1 Chromatic, Chromatic Chromatic WT1

Feature PC <267E> <1245> <0167> <1278> <0167> Sets <247E> <027> <1245> <258E> <147T> <027> <0149> <0134> <0134> <1269> <0347> <0347> <247E> <047E> <047E> <027> <037T> <037T> <027> <027> Prime (0158) (0134) (0167) (0167) (0167) Form (0358) (07) (0134) (0369) (0369) (027) (0347) (0134) (0134) (0158) (0347) (0347) (0358) (0158) (0158) (027) (0358) (0358) (027) (027) Tonal A Eb Moving C Transitional Center back to Eb

Style Hindemith Eclectic Eclectic Folk song Eclectic

46

mm. 135–137 mm. 154–156 mm. 171–173 mm. 200–202

Form Development

Collection Chromatic Pentatonic Chromatic Chromatic qualities, pentatonic, Oct1,2 Feature PC <1278> <0257> <1278> <0167> Sets <0369> <027> <258E> <147T> <0134> <0134> <0134> <1458> <0347> <027> <047E> <047E> <148E> <037T> <46E> <027> Prime Form (0167) (0257) (0167) (0167) (0369) (027) (0369) (0369) (0134) (0134) (0134) (0347) (0347) (027) (0158) (0158) (0358) (0358) (027) (027) Tonal Center Transitional Transitional Transitional Eb, but still transitional

Style Eclectic Hindemith Eclectic Eclectic

47

mm. 260–263 mm. 325–327 mm. 346–349 mm. 357–360

Form

Collection Chromatic Pentatonic Chromatic Chromatic/ Octatonic

Feature PC <2389> <0257> <1278> <2389> Sets <1269> <027> <147T> <027> <027> <237T> <027>

Prime Form (0167) (0257) (0167) (0167) (0158) (027) (0369) (027) (027) (0158) (027) Tonal Center C# C Transitional Eb

Style Eclectic Eclectic Eclectic Eclectic

48

mm. 366–367 mm. 367–369 mm. 370–374 mm. 539–540

Form Recapitulation

Collection Diatonic Chromatic Chromatic Diatonic (f# (C Major) natural minor)

Feature PC <047E> <0167> <349T> <1489> Sets <0259> <147T> <0369> <0358> <027> <0134> <019T> <168E> <0347> <0347> <027> <0158> <047E> <037T> <037T> <027> <027>

Prime Form (0158) (0167) (0167) (0158) (0358) (0369) (0369) (0358) (027) (0134) (0134) (0257) (0347) (0347) (027) (0158) (0158) (0358) (0358) (027) (027)

Tonal Center C C C Bb

Style Hindemith Eclectic Eclectic Eclectic

49 As demonstrated above, the collection (027) persists in the music from section to

section as a continuity, thereby making it the principal thematic set-class of this work.

The strong presence of (027) reveals a deep-seated connection to Hindemith and his

reliance on intervals of fourths and fifths in his compositions. Conversely, it may also reveal Nordal’s connection to the perfect parallel fifths of the Icelandic tvísöngur.

In the above table, there is some discrepancy between the featured PC sets and the collections, especially in regard to the use of whole tone scales and chromaticism. If there is a lack of purity, it is because most of the sources and styles are eclectic. A representative example can be found in measures 8–12. These measures contain a predominantly a chromatic texture. However, in measures 11–12, the winds play ascending whole tone scales against the chromatic background. Furthermore, three of the resulting prime forms in this collection, (0369), (0134), and (0358), are octatonic subsets.

The collection (027) also plays a part in the action. All of these elements together play an essential role in transitioning the tonal center from C to F in measure 18.

Let us now briefly explore specific examples in Nordal’s Piano Concerto that demonstrate important influences from the international compositional styles of Bartók and Hindemith. Sveinbjörnsson’s analysis of Nordal’s Piano Concerto includes a brief exposition on Nordal’s use of chromaticism and quintal harmony.113 Other elements not

mentioned by Sveinbjörnsson are audible in this work, such as linear counterpoint, tonal

centricity, modality, changing meters, heavy accents, repeated notes associated with the

toccata element, contrasts of dynamic and tempo markings, and non-functional

harmonies.

113 Sveinbjörnsson, “Tónlist Jóns Nordal,” 51–52

50 Many of the above were traits of Hindemith’s compositions and theoretical

ideas. Hindemith discussed his preference for the overtone series in The Craft of

Musical Composition, writing that overtones formed the most natural scales and should be the basis for harmonies. According to Hindemith, “We find the intervals embedded in the tonal raw material which Nature has made ready for musical use, consisting of an infinite number of tones . . . . Into this inchoate tonal mass we can introduce a certain order by the use of the immutable measure of the octave and fifth.”114 This resulted in a predominance of quintal harmonies and their inversion, quartal harmonies, in Hindemith’s music and the avoidance of major and minor tonalities.

Hindemith was also convinced of the superiority of the chromatic scale over the diatonic scale: “We have thus found the simplest and most logical method of arranging the constituent parts of the overtone series . . . in a different series: the twelve-tone chromatic scale.”115 He believed that the chromatic scale was “. . . an enrichment or a variation of the seven-tone major and minor scales.”116 This reliance

on the chromatic scale led to tonal centricity, in which a single note is the focus point

instead of a scale being the generator of complex harmonies. Therefore, no particular

key seems dominant in his works. Hindemith’s music sounds tonal despite the

intense chromaticism. However, the tonality tends to verge on modality given the

avoidance of leading tones and harmonic thirds.

114 Paul Hindemith, The Craft of Musical Composition, vol. 1, 4th ed. (New York: Schott, 1942), 15.

115 Ibid., 47.

116 Ibid.

51 Hindemith’s compositional style could have been attractive to Icelandic

composers for several reasons. His use of the overtone series and the resulting quartal

and quintal harmonies has qualities similar to the Icelandic tvísöngur tradition.

According to Nordal, “The austere and primitive strength of this ancient music of my

country has always fascinated me and more or less influenced the style and character of

my compositions. . . .”117 Ingólfsson adds, citing his interview with Nordal:

In Nordal´s later works, tvísöngur takes on a more complex function. In the midst of Nordal´s modern, even volatile, musical language, it provides a window into a distant past, a nostalgic reminder of days long gone. According to the composer himself, tvísöngur is part of his own origins, “you just have it inside you, I guess, this earliest polyphony. [. . .] One feels like it´s such a starting point, such a root, which has a very strong impact on me.”118

Nordal’s use of the intervals of fourths and fifths may be the result of the fact that

Nordal’s teacher studied with Hindemith, but his connection to his Icelandic musical heritage may also be relevant.

One could also argue that many of the elements listed above are associated with

Bartók. In fact, the ending of Nordal’s Piano Concerto is reminiscent of Bartók’s own

Third Piano Concerto. Bartók’s system of chromatic tonality was based on several factors, including modal folk music, the Golden Mean, and according to Lendvai,

Fibonacci’s numerical series. Bartók used the Fibonacci series to measure half steps.

Therefore, his music predominantly consists of Major seconds (and its inversion, minor sevenths), minor thirds, Perfect fourths, minor sixths, and augmented octaves (or minor

117 “Choralis for Orchestra” (John F. Kennedy Center, Washington D.C., 1982, program notes), 18B.

118 Nordal, interview by Árni Heimir Ingólfsson, in “These are the Things You Never Forget”: The Written and Oral Traditions of Icelandic Tvísöngur, Ph.D. Thesis, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University, April 2003, 250.

52 ninths) as his main intervals.119 One of the more obvious examples that display an influence by Bartók is measure 334 (Example 2), with the piano playing a series of Major second intervals:

Example 2, Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 334–338

Yet, like Hindemith, Bartók also uses tonal centricity, but in a different fashion.

Lendvai continues,

[Bartók’s] tonal system grew out of functional music. An uninterrupted line of evolution can be followed from the beginnings of functional concepts, through the harmonies of Viennese classicism and the tone-world of romanticism to his axis system. By an analysis of his compositions, this axis system can primarily be shown to possess the essential properties of classical harmony. . . .

By means of the axis system, the notes in each axis are based in principle on the circle of fifths and create “functional relationships of four different tonalities, which may

119 Ernö Lendvai, Béla Bartók: An Analysis of his Music (London: Kahn & Averill, 1971), 35.

53 best be compared to the major-minor relations of classical music.”120 The harmonies on opposite poles of an axis form a tritone relationship, but in Bartók’s axis system, “a pole is always interchangeable with its counterpole without any change in its function.”121

This means, for example, a C tonality can be interchanged with an F# tonality. Examples

of this can be seen in the first and second themes of Nordal’s Piano Concerto. In

Example 3, the orchestra begins with a tonal center C that moves to tonal center F by the

entrance of the piano at measure 19. This relationship can be identified as a V – I

relationship both in traditional analysis as well as when viewed through the axis system.

Example 3, Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 1–18

120 Ibid., 3.

121 Ibid., 4.

54 The second theme (in Example 4) moves from a C# tonal center at the introductory horn solo at measure 100 to a C tonal center at the entrance of the piano (m.

118). This theme is more difficult to analyze through traditional harmonic analysis, but under the axis system, the C# tonal center can act as a dominant substitute for the C tonal center.

Example 4, Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 100–118

55 Folk music was an important basis for Bartók’s tonal and rhythmical method of

composition. He used modes and other non-traditional scales for the basis of his tonality,

including octatonic, pentatonic, and Lydian scales. Note in Example 4 how, in measures

103–105, Nordal uses C Lydian mode to assist in moving between tonal centers.

Additionally, Bartók’s music is filled with heavy accents and an identifiable percussive

treatment of the piano, which can be said to have correlations with Icelandic rímur. The

constant changing of meter and the heavy accentuations of the downbeats of these

changing meters are characteristics of rímur. More detailed examples of the correlations between Nordal´s Piano Concerto and rímur will be discussed under the subheading

“Meter” in the next section.

Nordal mentioned, in a conversation with the author, that Stravinsky was an important influence at the time of the writing of the Piano Concerto, especially in respect to Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring. Although aspects of Stravinsky’s compositional style can be linked to Nordal’s Piano Concerto, many of these traits (such as use of modal

and octatonic scales, freely tonal writing, and highly accentuated material) are also

features of Bartók and Hindemith. For this reason, Stravinsky’s influence will not be

separately explored in this essay.

Icelandic correlations

Yet, the correlations between the features of Icelandic music and those of the

composers considered to be influences on Nordal’s Concerto are strongly present and should be explored. As Grímsdóttir points out:

It is not unusual for a composer to have recourse to his native culture for this can be regarded as a way of exploring both an additional field of resources as well as

56 one´s national identity. The results of such an exploration is dependent upon various factors such as the general attitude of the composer towards his native culture as well as his musical education. In addition to this external pressure yielded from the immediate environment can influence a composer´s attitude. For if for instance a composer has chosen to live abroad he may be subject to a different and perhaps stronger pressure towards his native culture than the one who stays at home. The Icelandic folk song tradition which is represented by Rímur and Tvísöngslög has indeed proved to be a source of inspiration since its revival around the beginning of the century. As far as piano music is concerned, works which are directly built upon or inspired by Icelandic folk song do not constitute a large part of the repertoire but nevertheless retain an autonomous place in it.122

Þórarinsson did not discourage the use of nationalist elements in compositions.

“As a teacher, composer and administrator, [Jón Þórarinsson] has represented the non-

nationalist school in contradistinction to Jón Leifs. He has been the advocate of an

international musical language that does not deny national sources of material. However,

his style demands neither national material nor aesthetics as a prerequisite.”123 Victor

Urbancic, another of Nordal’s compositional instructors, encouraged the use of

nationalism in compositions. Nordal’s use of nationalism can be seen in most of his early

period works such as his early choral works, his Seven Songs for male choir on old

Icelandic texts, and his Systurnar í Garðshorni for violin and piano. Even in later works after the Piano Concerto, there is evidence that there is some impact of Icelandic national

elements on his works. Bergendal states, “Behind the titles [of Nordal’s orchestral works

between 1970 and 1983] and the music there unmistakably hovers a fundamental

impression of the barren, bare Icelandic landscape. Jón Nordal, however, restricts the use

of national elements in his music, and there is no trace of nationalistic fervour.”124 It is of

122 Grímsdóttir, 37–38.

123 Bergendal, 64–65.

124 Ibid., 70.

57 interest to note that Grímsdóttir makes a strong statement regarding the use of folk song aspects:

The common denominator however which signifies these approaches towards Icelandic folk songs is a respect for the material. This means in specific terms that the concrete musical material is played with rather than used as an abstract inspiration. Thus the general principles which are characteristic for Icelandic folk song are respected and preserved, for instance tonal and modal peculiarities, a narrow range of melodic motion, irregular metric patterns and frequent changing of the metre and also a prolongation of the last note. Whether or not this musical material with its micro-tones inflection and tonal rhythmic peculiarities suits the piano is probably a matter of debate but the fact remains that it has the potential to become the source of an original compositional style.125

Intervals

Parallels between the Piano Concerto and the Icelandic tvísöngur can be made in regard to intervallic structures. Fourths and fifths permeate this work. The winds present examples of fifths in places such as measures 10 and 11 (Example 5). Certain subsets are emblematic: (0167), (147T), (0134), (0347), (047E), (037T), (027), and the like. Very often chromatic passing tones fill in the gaps. Commuting between the octatonic and whole tone collections is frequent.

125 Grímsdóttir, 40.

58 Example 5, Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 10–11

The entrance of the piano in measure 19 has several striking instances of (027).

In Example 6, the diminished fifths between A and Eb in measure 21 appear in both

hands. In measure 23, the right hand has a perfect fifth (Eb and Bb) while the left hand

has an accented diminished fifth against the right hand (A to Eb). The following measure

has a perfect fifth (C to G) and the same occurs in measure 25 between the left hand C and the uppermost note in the right hand, the G.

59 Example 6, Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 19–25

Numerous examples of parallel fourths are present, such as in measures 27–33 in the horns and bassoons (Example 7). Yet again, this is presented in an octatonic context

(0358):

Example 7, Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 27–33

The horns, in Example 8, revisit the parallel fourths thought in measures 78–82.

It is set against a background of the octatonic subsets (0134) and (0358):

60 Example 8, Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 78–82

The pianist’s part is filled with numerous parallel fourths, including in measures

131–134. Yet again, these parallel fourths are set against an octatonic background with the subsets (0369), (0134), and (0358). The pianist’s part is doubled by the bassoons

(Example 9):

Example 9, Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 131–134

One of the most notable examples of parallel perfect fourths can be found in the

piano part in measures 364–382. In measures 370–371, the parallel fourths are also in the

clarinets and bassoons (Example 10).

61 Example 10, Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 368–371

Another instance of parallel perfect fourths can be found in Example 11 in

measures 260–263 in the piano.

Example 11, Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 260–263

Even in the more melodic sections of the work, the solo pianist’s melody consists of many fourths and fifths, such as in measures 118–24 (Example 12), in which there is but one example of a third in measure 119.

62 Example 12, Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 118–124

In Example 13, the tremolo in measures 357–381 in the first violins is made up entirely of quartal and quintal harmonies.

Example 13, Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 357–360

But fourths are, as Ragnarsson pointed out, not a feature of tvísöngur, although fourths are the inversion of fifths. Instead, the ubiquitous fourths provide a persuasive

argument for Hindemith’s influence on Nordal’s Concerto. In addition, individual

intervals of fifths do not singularly provide overwhelming evidence for an association between the Nordal piano Concerto and tvísöngur, since the tvísöngur’s prominent feature was parallel perfect fifths. Nonetheless, there are several examples of parallel perfect fifths in this work. At the entrance of the piano between measures 19–20

(Example 14), there are parallel perfect fifths in the piano.

63 Example 14, Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 19–20

The woodwinds provide another example of parallel fifths. In measures 171–173

(Example 15), the flutes start the pattern with a G and D, which moves to a C# in the first

flute and an F in the oboe. After moving to an F in the second flute and a B in the

clarinet, the grouping of parallel fifths ends on a C in the oboe and a G in the first flute.

Example 15, Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 171–173

In measures 334–362, a large portion of the work uses the toccata element in the piano with Bartókian dissonant seconds (although the intervals of seconds in Nordal’s

Piano Concerto are major seconds, not minor as Bartók used). Additionally, the octatonic

64 subset (0369) is present. But a closer look at the orchestral part exhibits many fourths and fifths. Another example of parallel fifths can be found here in measures 346–349

(Example 16) in the violas and cellos.

Example 16, Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 346–349

65 Yet another example appears in measure 372 in the clarinets and bassoons

(Example 17).

Example 17, Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, m. 372

Theoretically the compelling presence of (027) in the Concerto could be attributed

to Hindemith, but given so many examples of perfect parallel fifths, Hindemith’s aura appears to have a symbiotic relationship with the Icelandic tvísöngur in this work.

Meter

Frequent changes in meter occur for short periods of time in Nordal’s piano

Concerto. While shifting meters are a feature of Bartók, Hindemith, and Stravinsky’s music, they are also a principal feature of the Icelandic rímur tradition. As has been mentioned, the Icelandic language has a distinct rhythm with the accent always placed on the first syllable of every word and secondary accents on other syllables. Since the rímur were intoned, meter changes were necessary when the music was written to adapt to the syllabic emphasis. One of many examples can be found in Example 18, measures 225–

294, where meter changes occur almost every few measures, switching between 3/8, 2/4,

3/4, and 5/8.

66 Example 18, Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 225–236

In the latter part of the passage, as demonstrated in Example 19, the whole orchestra is engaged in offbeat outbursts, one of many examples of the strong rhythmical

aspect of the work.

67 Example 19, Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 275–279

From the outset, hemiola is also a strong element. As shown in Example 20, it is difficult to identify the strong beats in the first few measures of the Concerto as a tenuto mark is placed on the weak beat in the first measure. Rests are placed on the strong beats

(beat 2 in the second measure and beat 1 in the third).

Example 20, Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 1–4

68 The interrelationship between syllabic stress and the meter of Icelandic folk song

as a prominent feature of the uniqueness of Icelandic music provides substantial potential for further research.126

Lilja melody

Another parallel with an identifiable Icelandic sound in Nordal’s Piano Concerto is the use of an Icelandic folk song theme. This song, reportedly recorded by J.E.

Hartmann and published in the second volume of Laborde’s Essai sur la musique ancienne et moderne in 1780, is known as the “Lilja melody.” “The text is a stanza from

the religious poem Lilja composed in the 14th century in the skaldic metre hrynhent.”127

It is singular for its odd tonality, which hints at A melodic minor, but considering that its beginning and ending notes are both F#, it is difficult to classify with F# as the “tonic.”

Nevertheless, the Lilja melody is very clearly octatonic. The E breaks symmetry, but still is heard in the context of octatonic subsets, therefore it bends the collection a bit without breaking it (0124578, set class 7-Z38. See Example 21).

126 At this time, there is only one source that discusses the relation between syllabic stress and poetic rímur: Hreinn Steingrímsson, Kvæðaskapur: Icelandic Epic Song, ed. Dorothy Stone and Stephen L. Mosko (Reykjavík: Mál og mynd, 2000). A complete transcript of the book can be viewed online at http://music.calarts.edu/KVAEDASKAPUR/.

127 Hreinn Steingrímur, Kvæðaskapur: Icelandic Epic Song, ed. Dorothy Stone and Stephen L. Mosko (Accessed 26 December 2004), .

69 Example 21, Icelandic folk song, “Lilja” melody

In his analysis of Nordal´s works, Sveinbjörnsson confirmed that Nordal used the

Lilja melody in his Choralis as well as the shape of the melody in several other works.128

Numerous instances can also be found in Nordal’s Piano Concerto.

The first four notes (see Example 21) create the intervallic structure of a major second (F# to G#), diminished fourth (G# to C, which can also be heard as a major third between Ab and C), and minor second (C to B). This creates, in set theoretical analysis, a normal form of <0245> and a prime form of (0146). Most of the similarities to the Lilja melody are not exact in Nordal’s Concerto; instead the shape of the melody remains.

The first instance can be found in measure 69–70 (Example 22), where the intervals in both measures are major second, minor third, and minor third, creating a normal form of <0245> and a prime form of (0135).

Example 22, Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 69–70

128 Sveinbjörnsson, “Tónlist Jóns Nordal,” 98–99.

70 In measures 74–77 (Example 23), the intervals still don’t match Lilja accurately,

creating normal (and prime) forms of, in sequence, (0156), (0134), and (0145).

Example 23, Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 74–77

The entrance of the second theme in measure 100 brings back the idea of Lilja in

Example 24. The orchestra introduces the melody in the horn. Again, the intervallic structure is not the same as Lilja, missing by one interval (major second, minor third, and major second) and creating a trichord, not a tetrachord, of (023).

Example 24, Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 100–104

In Example 25, the piano follows this same exact intervallic pattern in its presentation of the second theme in measure 118.

71 Example 25, Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 118–120

There is another hit-and-miss in Example 26 with the interval pattern in measure 131.

The augmented unison can be heard as a minor second, and this is followed by a diminished fourth and minor second, creating normal and prime forms of (0145).

Example 26, Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, m. 131

A slight departure from Lilja’s intervallic structure also occurs in Example 27

with measures 163–166. The first instance uses two augmented unisons instead of the

seconds and a perfect fifth instead of the diminished fourth, creating a prime form of

(0156). Both measures 165 and 166 use minor instead of major seconds for the first interval. Thus the normal and prime forms here are (0134).

72 Example 27, Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 163–166

Nordal even makes a canon on pseudo-Lilja with normal and prime forms of (0145) in the strings in measures 189–192 (Example 28).

Example 28, Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 189–192

The next significant use of Lilja occurs in measures 399–422, as shown in Example 29.

The cellos and bass clarinet begin the theme, but without the exact intervallic structure as

Lilja (normal/prime forms of (0134) in each).

73 Example 29, Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 399–401

In measure 414 Lilja reveals itself exactly in the piano part, creating a normal form of <0256> and a prime form of (0146) (Example 30).

Example 30, Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, m. 414

The second example of Lilja in faithful replication is in measure 529, as demonstrated in

Example 31:

Example 31, Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, m. 529

74 Nordal even includes an occurrence of pseudo-Lilja with a set class (0134) in inversion in

measures 507–508 (Example 32):

Example 32, Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 507–508

Mood and tone

The words in Icelandic poetry controlled the music in Icelandic folk song through meter and syllabic emphasis. On the other hand, the sagas controlled the mood of the

poetry. The elements of heroism, epic-ness, revenge, blood-feud, and going after fate no

matter what the consequences can be likened to the mood of Nordal’s Piano Concerto.

Bergendal acknowledges one possibility of how the sagas could have influenced Nordal’s works:

A further characteristic [in Nordal’s Adagio of 1965] is the strange tension between the calm objectivity of the musical language and the strong emotions that brood and surge under the surface. To draw the following parallel may appear foolhardy, but it seems to me that this kind of ‘narrator technique’ is akin to that which one finds in the great Icelandic family sagas of the Middle Ages.129

Thorsteinsdóttir writes:

Regarding Jón’s compositions, the following was written in the program of the Staatskapelle Dresden . . . from the performance of the Piano Concerto in 1958: “His compositions draw themselves through an outstanding sense for musicality and through an unspent freshness that now and then are controlled in a harsh Epic, in which somehow the width of the northern ocean and the melancholy rawness of

129 Bergendal, 68.

75 Iceland reflects.” Jón himself emphasizes in the afore-mentioned interview: “When I compose, I am not consciously thinking of the style, my largest matter of concern is the expression and the music…”130

This is, in some ways, a light-hearted work with much humor, as can be found in the sagas as well. Concurrently, beginning with the marking risoluto, the use of open fifths and fourths has a seriousness and stoicism to the resulting sound throughout the work. Thorsteinsdóttir refers to a bassoon solo at measure 478 that “has a serious, even tragic, undertone.”131 Here is a composition in a declamatory style, much in the manner of the sagas. The closing section is much like Bartók’s Third Piano Concerto with its perpetual motion ascending and descending passages both in the piano and the orchestra, but this section also is much like the sagas, a whirlwind heading towards fate despite the consequences of coming to an ill-fated end. Indeed, the toccata element in itself is a vehicle for going towards ones’ fate without regard to the result.

Depiction of the Icelandic landscape

Nordal’s Concerto can be related to the ever-changing Icelandic landscape through contrasts in tonal centers, tempo, motives, articulative texture, and dynamics.

Thorsteinsdóttir remarks on the constantly changing musical material:

The main material consists of the two themes and the short motives, which appear in many characters, but hardly repeat themselves. So the concerto is like a flow of ideas the composer does not always carry out. Sometimes he lays them there without some long-windedness. The expositions of the themes are spontaneous and close, and therefore there is hardly a timeframe which is not used to its fullest. The course of harmonies is in constant development, and one cannot speak of definite keys.132

130 Thorsteinsdóttir, 23.

131 Ibid., 33.

132 Ibid., 26-27.

76 As shown in Example 33, the tonal center at the beginning is in C, which transfers

to F by the entrance of the pianist. Much ambiguity arises, though, as to whether the work is in major or minor because of the avoidance of intervals of thirds, which is made even murkier by how quickly Nordal moves out of a tonal center as soon as he has established it. Furthermore, more ambiguity ensues as to whether the tonal centers he establishes (or rather, evades) are the true tonal centers or if they are dominants that eventually move to the tonic. For example, is the C tonality established by the orchestra at the beginning the dominant of F?

Example 33, Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 1–18

Is the second theme in measure 100 in C# Major or minor, or are we, according to

Bartók’s axis system, in the substituted dominant of C (as demonstrated in Example 34)?

77 Example 34, Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 100–118

The ever-changing tonalities can be likened to the varying landscape in Iceland.

Likewise, the ideas in this work are motivic in character, although some of the

motivic use is derived from the two main themes in the exposition (much like Beethoven makes use of motives from his main thematic ideas). Six main motives are identifiable in

Nordal’s Piano Concerto. The unusual number of motives and dizzying array of material provides much fabric for the composer and is a striking resemblance of the dramatically changing colors and textures of the Icelandic landscape. Bergendal observes similar elements in Nordal’s Cello Concerto:

Nordal makes no use of traditional Icelandic material [in his Cello Concerto of 1983], but there are certain aspects that can possibly be traced back to Icelandic tradition. As is normal for Nordal, the concerto is conceived in a single movement with a central scherzo section. It is interesting to note, however, that this scherzo and even the agile allegro sections in general are rarely allowed to establish themselves. They rarely grow into expositions in their own right but act

78 rather as contrasting elements to the warm and elegiac declamatory cantabile music of expressive or meditative character. . . . At most it is a vision of a heavy- footed dance, where expression and not movement is most important.133

Thorsteinsdóttir refers to the constant flux of ideas, remarking on how “the concerto is like a flow of ideas that the composer does not always carry out. . . . The expositions of the themes are spontaneous and close, and therefore hardly give any space

in time. . . . The harmonic progression is in constant development, and one cannot speak

of a definite key.”134

The following six examples (Examples 35a–f) are the main identifiable motivic

ideas in Nordal’s Piano Concerto. In each of these motivic ideas, Nordal sometimes uses the whole motive, and other times only a fraction of it.

Example 35a, Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 1–3

133 Bergendal, 70.

134 Thorsteinsdóttir, 27.

79 Example 35b, Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 19–27

Example 35c, Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 28

Example 35d, Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 29–35

Example 35e, Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 100–104

80 Example 35f, Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 123–124

There is an abundance of textures in Nordal’s Piano Concerto. The articulation markings range from staccatissimo to marcato to molto legato, often within short range of

each other. In measures 179–182, as demonstrated in Example 36, the pianist is playing a

legato sixteenth-note passage in the right hand while the left hand is occupied with

staccatissimo eighth notes that are echoed in the violas.

Example 36, Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 179–182

In addition, the fierce toccata element is contrasted with soaring melodies in the work, illustrative of which is the first thematic material versus the second thematic material. The first theme, in Example 37a, is agitated and resolute in personality.

Additionally, the jagged nature of the first theme results from its wide range and large intervallic jumps. The second theme (Example 37b), in contrast, consists of a smaller

81 range and singable melodic line and is calmer because of a slower tempo marking (Meno mosso).

Example 37a, Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 19–22

Example 37b, Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 100–103

Of course, the ideal of the sonata form is to have the second theme sharply contrast the first, but this feature is an additional vehicle to the marked changes of character displayed in this work.

The Nordal Concerto is additionally marked by many abrupt and impulsive changes of tempos during this succinct eleven-minute work, giving the sense of instability. The metronome markings range from 60 to 126 to a quarter note. The supplementary directive markings that Nordal wrote to the performers shift incessantly between brilliante, dolce, tranquillo, risoluto, and espressivo. Moreover, there are two

82 notable moments in the Concerto where the toccata’s perpetual motion comes to a

screeching halt. One point is between measures 385–399, as shown in Example 38. The

horns hold a lone G# for seven measures while the pianist makes an expressive statement.

Example 38, Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 385–399

The motion quickly gets back underway and continues until measures 472–505, where there is an even stronger result on stopping the motion (Example 39). The dramatic moment is created by stark simplicity: longer note values and noticeably uncomplicated contrapuntal textures. At the end of the moment of respite, a thrilling whirlwind of notes leads us to the conclusion.

83 Example 39, Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 472–505

84

Dynamics also play an important role in coloristic expressive contrast in the

Concerto. The changes in dynamics are constantly fluctuating between fortes and

fortissimos to pianos and pianissimos with many accents and sforzandi interjections. One notable example is in measures 252–258 (Example 40).

85 Example 40, Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 252–258

Some of the sforzandi are marked sff or sfff, such as in Example 41, measures

57–61.

86 Example 41, Jón Nordal, Piano Concerto, mm. 57–61

Nordal’s Concerto is a work of constant change, reflective of the intrinsic aspects of the erratic Icelandic weather and landscape.

87 Conclusion

The elements presented here are not the only influences apparent in Nordal’s

Piano Concerto. There is much to be found in the correspondence of this work with

foreign influences such as Hindemith’s contrapuntal style and use of overtone series,

Bartók’s use of tonal centers, heavy accents, and intervallic structure, Stravinsky’s strong

rhythmic qualities, the use of Baroque forms such as toccata, fugato, and canon, and even

Beethoven’s use of motivic material. But it is important to bear in mind that Nordal’s

Piano Concerto is not only the first piano concerto to be written by an Icelander, it is the first concerto written by an Icelander. The evidence presented in the previous sections demonstrates strong associations with an Icelandic identity that cannot be ignored. The work sounds intrinsically Icelandic and has many features that were appropriate judgments in respect to Icelandic nationalistic elements.

Most Icelandic composers and musicians have studied abroad and there are a multitude of influences on their works, as many influences as there are schools of thought or styles of composition. This is not unusual for Icelandic culture, as most Icelanders go abroad for their studies, so Iceland benefits from a multitude of foreign methods and ideas. When Icelanders return to Iceland, they profit from sharing ideas with each other.

The outside contributions may not be disregarded. Nordal verbally acknowledges the influences of Bartók, Hindemith, and Stravinsky in his own piano concerto. Hindemith’s influence is impossible to ignore because Nordal’s teacher studied with Hindemith and other works the time of Nordal’s Concerto were conspicuously written in the style of

Hindemith.

88 Certain questions may arise, therefore, as to whether there is a distinctive

Icelandic sound in general. The elements that have been identified as features of

Icelandic folk music are fundamentals found in the music of other cultures. Examples of this include the use of Lydian and other modal scales (the transfer of the Lydian mode to

Iceland resulted from the influence of central Europe on Icelandic musicians studying abroad around the time of the Reformation), changing meters (an essential element of

Hungarian music, for example, but changing meters were a common element in the compositions of most twentieth century composers), use of intervals of fourths and fifths

(use of these type of intervals is universal, ranging from early development of polyphony to Hindemith and Copland), use of singable melodies in a small intervallic range (a key feature of Schubert’s works and also church hymns), and use of small motivic contours

(an attribute of the music of Bach and Beethoven). Singable melodies are another characteristic of Icelandic song production between 1880-1950, a product of the

Romantic nationalistic movement that shaped the national musical taste. Everyone loved these works; everyone sang them (and still do).

Moreover, at least with tvísöngur, one characteristic is a prevalent rhythm of quarter notes and eighth notes, with little variation in this rhythmic element. Considering the high amount of contrapuntal activity, this aspect is missing in Nordal’s Concerto, where the rhythms consist of smaller note values and hemiolas. In this respect, the

Concerto is more related to the rímur than the tvísöngur. There also is a strong diatonic basis in tvísöngur, which although there is the sense of a key in the Nordal Concerto, it is more identifiable with the Hindemithian sense of tonal centers that move quickly from one to the next. Furthermore, the musical language of the Concerto is highly chromatic, a

89 feature not readily associated either with the rímur or the tvísöngur. Likewise, the forms

used in the Concerto are not Icelandic invention. The sonata form is a mainland

European invention that Bartók used in his concerti, and the toccata, fugato, and canons

are something to be more associated with the Baroque and are forms that Hindemith

used.

Most Icelandic composers do not acknowledge being influenced by

characteristically Icelandic elements of folk music in their own works, although some

admit that Icelandic folk music is something that surrounds them, and perhaps the

atmosphere of Icelandic culture works its way into their works. Icelandic composer

Hjálmar H. Ragnarsson remarked:

Although a number of prolific composers have been influenced by Icelandic traditional music, Icelandic composers have not developed a common style which could be considered to be specifically Icelandic. But like most other Icelanders Icelandic composers identify strongly with their country, and so their music is intrinsically influenced by similar values and a common heritage. It is therefore pertinent to place Icelandic 20th-century music into a historical and social perspective.135

Another Icelandic composer, Karolína Eiríksdóttir, adds:

I think that in an objective sort of way compositions reflect the society and the environment of the composer. The magnificent landscape and the isolation have doubtlessly moulded Icelandic composers to a degree. But on the other hand many of them have studied abroad and adopted Western musical traditions. It is, however impossible to locate all possible elements that characterise Icelandic music. Its history is so short and no school or movements have appeared with influential teachers for example. I do not believe that there is any need for a nationalistic, Icelandic school today. That applies rather when nations are fighting for their independence. Icelandic composers are individuals, each with his own background. Personally I do not feel any need to emphasize national characteristics.136

135 Ragnarsson, 38.

136 Karolína Eiríksdóttir, interview by Marek Podhajski, “Icelandic Composers about piano music”, in Íslensk Píanótónlist I, ed. Marek Podhajski (Akureyri: Tónlistarskólinn á Akureyri, 1992), 152.

90 The elements that Icelanders as a rule would most readily associate with Icelandic nationalism above all others are the sagas (which Nordal acknowledges as an influence

on his works because of his father’s influence), the landscape, and the poetry. But these

are elements that are challenging to validate as being represented in music, especially in

such an abstract work as Nordal’s. Nonetheless, many of the leading musicians and musicologists in Icelandic music with whom the author has discussed this project have indeed used adjectives and aesthetical commentary to describe the Icelandic quality of

Nordal’s compositions. As Halldór Haraldsson, who studied with Nordal, remarked to

the author in a conversation, it is the impression of the landscape and the sagas that is present in Nordal’s works. Sveinbjörnsson, in the author’s interview with him, referred to how it is the taste of Icelandic elements that are present in Nordal’s music.137 In another conversation with the author, Ingólfsson characterizes the influence of Nordal’s father as something that made the overall tone of Nordal’s pieces into serious, philosophical, and nationalistic compositions.

The areas that are indicative of an Icelandic sound that are present in Nordal’s

Piano Concerto are elements of tvísöngur and rímur, the use of a specific Icelandic folk song, the mood and tone of the Icelandic literature, contrapuntal independence, and strong contrasts in use of tonal centers, tempo, motives, articulative texture, and dynamics. The elements of Bartók, Hindemith, and Stravinsky cannot be ignored; they are much too obvious and pervasive to be dismissed as factors of influence.

Nonetheless, the Icelandic factor has many musical elements in common with the foreign influences, and these are the precise elements that are present in Nordal’s

Piano Concerto. Instead of being an either/or situation, the present influences are a

137 Bjarki Sveinbjörnsson, interview by author, 5 November 2004, Reykjavík, digital recording. 91 both/and symbiosis, working together to acknowledge the roots that Nordal was emerging from while striving for a more international voice.

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